What's a King Without His Queen?
by DearaWriting
Summary: Rachel Newell-Kane didn't know what to expect when she and her friends were sent down to the ground by her father, but she definitely didn't expect Bellamy Blake. As she tries to get through the trials the ground, Bellamy may end up being the one thing she's found on the ground that she's grateful for. (Will be updated approximately once a week, first four chapters are up now.)
1. Prologue

Marcus Kane looked at the floor, forcing himself to not raise his eyes to the airlock, or look at the medical apprentice by the door shushing a blanket-wrapped baby. He focused on the quiet humming that was the Ark, attempting to block out the chatter of the other guards. His attempts were all in vain. As soon as Chancellor Drummond entered the room, and the collection of guards lined up at the wall stood at attention, Marcus' training kicked in. He snapped his head up, and looked at the doomed prisoners being escorted in.

His friends.

His _best_ friends.

Thomas and Georgia Newell.

Neither of them looked at him when they entered. They looked towards their daughter, the infant, only a few months old, held by the medical apprentice next to the airlock. The girl who, in a few minutes, would be left an orphan.

Marcus' gaze was pulled from the couple as Councilor Jennings, the man in charge of the Guard and the Ark Justice System, sauntered over to stand next to him. "It's always harder when you know them, Marcus," the large man offered, patting his attaché once on the shoulder.

The younger man shuffled on his feet, ducking his chin in. "With all respect sir," he said, trying to keep the bite out of his voice, "They're more than just people I know, they're like my family." Wringing his hands together, Marcus stepped slightly towards his friends, only to be stopped by Jennings' hand on his collar.

"Don't interfere. You'll only make it worse for yourself, and for them." Marcus bristled, ready to defend his actions to his boss, but there was a sympathetic gleam in the man's usually cold eyes. "If they want to say goodbye, they will. Best to let them do this on their terms."

As much as he hated it, the Councilor's advice rang true. So instead of running to his friends and embracing them one last time, Marcus stayed a step behind the man who had sentenced them, and waited silently with the rest of his peers.

Peers that had come to say goodbye too, to their own boss. Sergeant Thomas Newell, Chief of the Ark Station Guard. Even his boss, the Guard Commander, and most of the Majors were in the room. When Thomas turned his kind green eyes to the crowd, they all snapped a hand to their foreheads. A salute to their commanding officer, their colleague, and their friend.

A friend whose heart was too kind for his job, whose wife also possessed the same warm heart. Whose kindness had been his downfall.

The man -the fugitive- they had harbored, was floated the day before. He had drunkenly tried to attack a member of the guard following his wife's death, due to medical rationing, she had not survived giving birth to their child. The child hadn't survived either. The Newell's had taken pity on the man, and Georgia convinced her husband to hide him in the extra room in their quarters until Thomas could find a way to prevent the guard from pressing charges. But they were found out.

And now they were here.

Thomas was saying farewell to his fellow guards, including the guard who _had_ agreed to let the man off the hook, but not before it was too late. Georgia had given into her tears as she faced her daughter, who had fallen asleep in the apprentice's arms. Her eyes, the same clear, glass green as her fathers, peacefully closed. Marcus was grateful for it. Even though the girl would never remember it, she shouldn't watch this.

Something tightened in his chest when he watched his friend turn away from the guards and towards his daughter, when he saw his friend, the always brave, always strong Sergeant Newell, start to cry. Cry for the daughter he wouldn't get to see grown up. Cry for the girl who would grow up without parents, with the burden of being the child of two criminals on her shoulders.

Thomas's mouth began to move in a silent prayer for his little girl. But while her husband fell apart, Georgia somehow gathered all her remaining strength, and turned to Marcus.

Stepping as close as her guards would let her, she approached him. Her eyes burned with a fire that Marcus had never seen before. "Take her, Kane, please," she didn't let her eyes look to the girl she now spoke about, even as the guards began pulling her and Thomas into the airlock. She continued to yell at him, "Take her! Raise her to be better than this place! To-" a guard pushed her in, the door hissing shut, and she lost her strength.

So did Marcus. He let his tears flow freely as his friends held each other, waiting for the Chancellor to end it. They didn't have to wait long.

Drummond stepped forwards, arms crossed behind his back. He swallowed, "Sergeant Thomas Newell, Georgia Newell. You have been found guilty of harboring a fugitive. In accordance with the Penal Code One, you are hereby sentenced to death. Do you have any last words?"

Thomas clung to his wife, both of them crying, but he managed to look at his daughter one last time. "No, we've said them already."

The Chancellor bit his lip, the only sign of weakness Marcus had ever seen him show. "Very well then," he motioned with a nod of his head, and was joined in front of the airlock by Vera Kane.

Vera smiled at the prisoners, a thin veil of tears clinging to her deep brown eyes. She spread her arms wide, and all in the room bowed their heads. All except Kane, who kept his gaze on his doomed friends as his mother prayed, her voice shaking. "In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground."

"May we meet again," the final words of the blessing rang loudly, all of those present speaking them together. Then silence fell.

All heads turned to the airlock. Thomas and Georgia, still holding one another, stopped crying and looked out once more at the sea of their friends. A final goodbye.

Chancellor Drummond nodded again, and a guard lifted the cover on the airlock release. A moment of hesitation, and then-

Then they were gone.

The hiss of the doors flying open and a rush of air, and the Newell's lifeless bodies were sucked away into oblivion.

But the room stayed quiet, stayed still. For several minutes, no one moved, no one dared. Then Chancellor Drummond turned, and left. One after another, all those in attendance followed, until only Marcus, Vera, and the medical apprentice remained. The baby was still silent.

The apprentice moved to leave, but was stopped by Vera. She stroked the baby's soft head, only a few curls of brown hair sticking out from beneath her cap. "I'll take her," she whispered, lifting her from the young man's arms. He let go, setting her gently in the old woman's arms, and left.

Vera bounced the baby slightly, gently waking her from her nap, and turned to her son. "Marcus, come here." She extended her arms, beckoning him forward. He complied, anguish twisting his face as he looked down at his friends' orphaned daughter.

 _His daughter now_ , he supposed.

Marcus let his mother set the girl in his arms, and he held her tight.

"You'll be good for her," Vera said, pushing his too-long hair out of his face, "and I think she'll be good for you too." Marcus only smiled a little in response, still reeling from watching his friends' death. He let his mother lead him out of the room, through the maze of hallways on the Ark, and back to his quarters. Not once did he take his eyes off the baby in his arms, off her smiling face, blissfully unaware of who she had just lost. Even when his mother left to collect the girl's belongings from the Newell's now vacant quarters he did not look away from her.

She wrested her tiny arms free of the blanket around her, swinging them around to see what they'd find. They found his thumb. Her small fingers held it tight, as if she didn't want to let go.

Marcus Kane cried for the second time then, as he wiggled his thumb that she held, and a quiet, joyful laugh filled the room. He tried to blink back his tears and he brought the baby even closer to him, as he whispered his first words to her, "Hello there, Rachel, welcome home."

Marcus was a better father than anyone expected. The way he saw it, he wasn't just caring for the little girl he had come to love so much, he was also honoring his friend's memories in the best way that he could. So he devoted all the time he could to personally caring for his new daughter, even carrying her to many council meetings and training sessions in a sling his mother had made for him. When he couldn't have her along with him, he only trusted a select few with her care.

Vera was the most common of the babysitters, since she was after all the girl's new grandmother. When she had Rachel, she often made sure to bring her to the Eden Tree, and to tell her the story of the Ark, and how they would one day return to the ground. When Rachel got old enough, Vera even convinced the headstrong young girl to be the Tender of the Tree. "Three generations of our family," Vera marveled as she and Marcus watched Rachel's first service together, one of the last that he attended (due to his election to the council shortly after, he claimed). Sadly for Vera, the energetic young girl soon lost interest in being the Tender, But even though her father never came with her, Rachel never stopped attending services.

Marcus' best friend also took a good chunk of the babysitting, since he also had a child who was only a few months older than her, and he too had been close with Rachel's parents. So Nathan Miller became Rachel's best friend, nearly a brother, and Sergeant Miller became like a second father. The two children were inseparable, and notoriously mischievous when they were together. They were often caught trying to sneak out of quarters to watch the moonrise, to follow their fathers into meetings, or to get a midnight snack, even when it was hours past their curfew. The two did however, learn to channel their excess energy when Sergeant Miller, with Marcus' eager permission, started training them to fight in private lessons, preparing them early on to follow in their father's footsteps.

Rachel was looked after by several other people when either Vera or Sergeant Miller wasn't available, but she was more often than not, under her own father's care. As she grew up, Marcus made sure to supplement her school learning with his own lessons in weapons combat and strategy, he brought her books on philosophy and on the history of war on Earth. He did everything in his power to make sure that his daughter would be as prepared as she could be to take on whatever challenges the world would throw at her once he was gone. Marcus wasn't, however, a remarkably strict parent, he actually spoiled Rachel quite a bit, using all of his resources as a Councilor's attache and later as a Councilman to make sure that his daughter never wanted for anything.

And so Rachel Newell-Kane (she opted to assume both names when Marcus offered her a choice) grew up an extraordinarily happy child.


	2. Chapter 1

Nate struck with a grunt, his gloved fist flying at Rachel's face with incredible speed. But she knew him too well, knew the twitching of the corner of his mouth that always showed which side he was actually aiming for. When his arm snapped back at her right, she stepped left, sliding a foot behind his ankle and pulling. He fell, body hitting the mat with a loud slap.

"Are we done now?" Rachel asked the sergeant, who stood just off the mat, frowning slightly at his son. She tossed her long brown braid over her shoulder, leaning down to help Nate back up.

Sergeant Miller stepped forward, flicking a hand to either side of the mat to indicate that he wanted them back in their starting position. "You two can be done when my son can get _at least_ _one_ win in."

Nate sneered back at his father's smug grin, "At least we've been fighting about evenly today."

"I wouldn't call six to nothing even Na-," Rachel's playful taunt was cut off by her friend leaping forward and tackling her. The two wrestled on the ground, laughing hysterically, not noticing the door of the sparring room open and the line of cadets shuffling in.

Until the sergeant clapped his hands, signaling them to separate as he stepped onto the mat and came up to them, motioning to the cadets lined up against the wall. "Sorry guys, I lost track of time, and they need their training too." The two teenagers muttered their understanding and removed their gloves. "Rachel, your father's still in the council meeting, so you're welcome to stay at our quarters while you wait for him to get back."

Rachel and Nate nodded, walked out of the training room, brushing past a few of the cadets on their way. The walk back to his quarters, and the first few hours they spent there were filled with playful joking, excited gossiping about the recent events on the Ark, and the discussion of each of their lives. That is, until the two teens ran out of things to talk about.

"So Bryan's gonna join us in the Guard, huh?" Rachel asked, draped over one of the armchair's in the main room.

Nate nodded, "We already covered that, Rach." When she raised her eyebrows, he dropped his head back on the arm on the couch he was laying on, "Two hours ago, babe."

"Well what haven't we talked about," Rachel twisted in the chair, pulling herself up to sit cross-legged and facing her friend, "cause I'm drawing a blank." Nate just shrugged in response. "There must be _something_ we can do for fun before we die of boredom."

Nate blinked, his eyes opening wider than before, and a mischievous smirk he had worn since childhood spreading across his face. Rachel leaned closer to him, "what are you thinking?"

"I can't make the Ark more fun," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he smiled at his friend, "but I do know a way we can make it _seem_ more fun." He waggled his eyebrows twice, sat up, and began pulling his boots back on. "It's nine-thirty, the mess hall is closed, and I bet all of the workers have gone home by now. Why not go grab ourselves a drink?"

"Moonshine?"

Nate shook his head, "No, I'm talking about the good stuff. I know where they keep it, and I bet you could figure out how to crack the lock."

Rachel smiled, "That's stealing, you know. We could get caught, arrested."

"With our skills? No way!" Nate got off the couch and onto his knees in front of her, hands pressed together as he begged, "Come on! You know almost everyone on the Ark has done at least something, and we only have a few months left before we aren't minors anymore" Rachel pressed her lips together, thinking, "Please? I promise you we won't get caught!"

Rachel smiled, and nodded.

They checked to make sure that their fathers' meeting- some business about a crime ring aboard the Ark -was still going on before they quickly and quietly made their way to the mess hall. It was empty, like Nate said it was going to be. Metal chairs all stacked upside down on the tables, the only light the small sun lamp on the Eden Tree.

Rachel said a silent prayer, apologizing for what they were about to do, and asking to help them not get caught.

Nate removed a small flashlight from his pocket and led Rachel across the dining hall, through the kitchen, and into the large freezer. After carefully shutting the door until it _almost_ latched, but still remained open, he led her over to a small safe in the corner. She got down on her knees, and motioned for him to shine the light on the lock.

Several tense minutes went by until they both heard a click, and the door opened.

"Damn! Look at that!" Nate was smiling broader than Rachel had ever seen him, other than when he was with Bryan. They both looked on in awe at the shelves of bottles, colors ranging from a deep brown, to a clear as water. Nate reached for one on the top shelf, a rectangular bottle with a brown liquid inside. He tore off the black lid and took a swig, his eyes clenching as he swallowed.

Rachel laughed, "That good, huh?" Miller grunted in response, handing her the bottle so she could try. She did. It was the worst thing she'd ever tasted, but she still took another gulp and passed the bottle back. They continued like this for a while, passing the bottle back and forth, until it was almost empty and everything that was boring an hour ago was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

That's when the light came on.

Their judgement too fuzzy to tell them to run or hide, Rachel and Nate just sat there, eyes wide as they stared at the open door, and the woman who now faced them. "Well," Nygel drawled, a sickening smile forming, "Looks like there's two little thieves in my kitchen."

They both made to move. She was short and heavy; they could make it past her. But standing up made their heads spin, and they fell back down. Nygel laughed, "Don't bother, little ones, your daddies are already on their way."

Rachel stayed on her knees, focusing on trying not to vomit. Nate fell back against the safe door and sighed, "Shit."

"'I _promise_ you we won't get caught,' you said," Rachel sighed, her head pressed up against the cold metal of the holding cell wall. A small vent on the floor connecting her to Nate's cell, where he had been muttering various apologies all night, both before and after their heads had cleared. Rachel hadn't accepted any of them.

Groaning, Nate yelled back through the vent, "You agreed to do it with me!"

She didn't have a response, she just hung her head between her legs. "They're gonna float us, Nate. We're gonna get sent the prison and then floated."

No response.

"All because I was bored." Rachel moaned, slamming her head back against the wall. Tomorrow she would have to face her father for her sentencing.

He hadn't said anything when he'd gotten to the freezer, just watched as the guards hauled her and Nate off the floor and handcuffed them. He hadn't said anything when they'd been marched down the hall and shoved into holding cells. He hadn't said anything, even when Nate's dad had. Teary eyed and shaking, Sergeant Miller had hugged his son before leaving his cell, whispering things to him that Rachel couldn't hear.

No, he'd just stood there and watched her. Watched as all of her jewelry, even the hand-me-downs from her real mother, given to her by Vera, had been taken off and taken away. Watched as she cried, begging him to just _say something_ , let her know it was going to be okay, that he'd make sure she was okay. But he just watched, deep disappointment filling his eyes.

And he'd walked away. Leaving her alone in that too cold cell.

It was worse now that her head was clear, now that all she had to do was think about what had happened. How stupid they'd been.

She couldn't sleep.

The lights came on, to wake her from a sleep she never fell into. A buzzing sounded before the door opened, and another before she heard the cell door next to her open. A young guard stepped in, and older one positioned at the door. She faced the guard who stepped towards her, a cadet, Rachel had seen him when she went with her father to inspect the last class of cadets.

"First prisoner escort, Walker?" she asked, standing from her place on the ground as gracefully as she could with her hands still cuffed together. He grimaced, and stood aside, motioning for her to walk out.

She and Nate were escorted to the review room side-by-side, the guards walking behind them. They knew the way; they had been to these meetings before. But never on this side. Never had they stood where they now did, in front of three metal tables, lights shining intimidatingly down on them. They had stood behind the tables, behind where their fathers now sat.

Kane sat at the middle table, focusing on a tablet in front of him, where details of their case were listed. The lines on his face were tighter than Rachel had seen them. The Sergeant sat to his right, ready to give testimony of the arrest, even though Kane himself had been there. It was procedure.

Smiling at the third table sat Nygel, arms crossed over her chest, her eagerness to testify against the children of the people who had been on her back clearly written on her face.

Kane banged his gavel to call the meeting to order. "We are here for the sentencing of the minors Nathan Miller," he swallowed, "and Rachel Newell-Kane." He finally looked at her, his dark eyes met hers, and seemed to contain an apology. He continued, "They are charged with theft of restricted materials, and unlawful intoxication."

Nygel smiled, bracing her hands on the table as she started to stand up. But she was interrupted by Kane.

"As the accused are minors, they are to be sent to prison until they are 18, at which time their case is to be reviewed." he looked to Nygel, whose eyes were wide with shock, then at Sergeant Miller, who was looking at his son with sadness and, Rachel noticed, hope.

They weren't going to be floated.

Her father looked back at her, seeing the realization in her eyes, and nodded slightly. Yes, they would go to prison, they'd be there the rest of the year, a little under six months, but they'd be pardoned when they were released. Kane had negotiated for it, and won. Miller laughed, and his father smiled at him. Kane looked at Rachel and nodded. She smiled, they were going to be okay.

"Well I guess this isn't too bad," Rachel mused as she sat with Nate at one of the metal tables on the bottom floor of the Skybox. The main floor of the prison had no cells, only a promenade with tables and benches scattered throughout. One wall was covered entirely by a food line where workers from the mess hall would deliver food three times a day. The other three had various rooms, some were for visitation, one was a small makeshift library, one was the office of the warden, and several were break rooms for the guards.

Nate smiled, nodding and taking a brief look up at the four floors above them. Each floor had a narrow walkway around the whole wall, with heavy metal doors leading to each cell. Rachel's new room was only one floor up; Nate's was on the second from the top floor. When he had found out that there were no lifts, only stairs, he muttered a curse at Rachel.

"It is a little cold though," he said, as he watched a small group of prisoners make their way towards their table.

Rachel snorted, "Space is cold, Nate, and there's only so much they're gonna offer prisoners." She smiled as the group got to table. Their new friends. Two of them, Monty and Harper, were Nate and Rachel's roommates. Both pairs had hit it off right away, Nate, who had introduced himself as "Miller" to the new group ("It's a better prison name," he had said), even went so far as to say that he might have developed a crush on his roommate, if not for Bryan, who had been his first visitor.

The third member of the new group, a tall, gangly boy named Jasper, smiled broadly as he sat down, digging into his food before he even set his tray down. He wore a pair of goggles he had somehow snuck into the prison on his head, above a mess of unkempt black hair. In between mouthfuls of spaghetti, he asked, "So, what's your story? What got you locked up?"

"Yeah," Harper giggled, flipping a dusty blonde pigtail over her shoulder, "How did the daughter of a Councilman and the son of the Chief Guard get put in here?"

Rachel ripped off a piece of bread, motioning for Nate to tell the story as she popped it into her mouth. He sighed, and pulled his cap of his head before leaning back in his seat to tell the story.

"We got bored, decided to steal some of the vintage booze from the ground," he was interrupted by a chorus of impressed noises from the group at the table, including the two new arrivals, the inseparable Sterling and Monroe. Miller continued, "We got it, but we got caught. Theft of something like that gets you locked up."

Monty, Miller's handsome roommate, looked up from where he twirled his noodles on his fork, "But how did you guys get put in here? I mean, couldn't your dads get you out of it?"

Miller frowned, so Rachel took the lead, "My dad's a definite rule follower," everyone at the table made some face of resentful agreement, "So he's not letting us get out of it just because of who we are."

Fortunately, the group left it at that and moved on without either of them having to explain what happened after their sentencing. Kane had come up to them before they were locked up, and confirmed what Rachel had guessed from the look he gave her: they _would_ be pardoned when they were reviewed upon release. He had also warned them not to tell any of the other prisoners this, to avoid any unnecessary trouble from the more dangerous criminals.

So the group kept talking pleasantly, never running out of topics like Rachel and Miller used to. They were all from various different stations, had very different experiences throughout their life, and apparently there was never any lack of gossip in lockup. They chatted until lights out, when a guard came to break the group up, and they all went back to their cells.

The friends fell into a routine: wake up, eat breakfast and chat, attempt to pull off whatever crazy scheme to have fun that Monty, Jasper, and Miller came up with, laugh about it when they inevitably failed, or got in trouble, then just relax and chat for the rest of the day.

One day, about two months into Rachel and Miller's sentence, the group was approached at their usual table at lunchtime- after Jasper's ill-fated attempt to create a zipline from the second floor to the promenade was thwarted by some guards- by a group of the more dangerous criminals in the prison. The "gang" was led by two boys, John Murphy and John Mbege. It was Murphy that broke away from the group to walk up to the table.

Murphy was the textbook definition of a bad guy. He had greasy hair, beady, leering eyes, and a crooked smile that gave away his smarmy overconfidence. There was definitely a reason that Rachel had avoided him and his group for so long.

But now he stood in front of her, his posture slouched in a way that he probably thought made him look cool and threatening. Rachel thought he looked like an ass. He grinned at her, and she cringed.

"Hey, Kane," Murphy slid his hands into his pockets as he spoke, "You settled in nicely to our little life here."

Rachel didn't have time think of an answer that both conveyed her disinterest and successfully damaged his ego before he spoke again.

"Cause if this little group isn't doing it for you," he flicked his eyes towards her friends at the table behind her as she fought the urge to roll her own, "You're more than welcome to come over to my cell, I can show you a good time."

She fought the overwhelming urge to gag. John Mbege and a girl named Roma grinned behind their friend, while Rachel's own friends' faces went red as they tried their best to contain both their horror and their laughter.

"Come on, a nice girl likes you should be hanging out with a much better crowd."

Jasper nearly fell off the table as he coughed, still fighting to keep quiet, careful to not anger the dangerous criminals standing in front of them. Monty, Harper, Monroe and Sterling clung to each other as they too, were hushing each other so they didn't giggle. It was hard for Rachel not to join them.

She swallowed her own chuckle, "I'm sorry, I think, but I'm good where I am, with who I'm with."

Miller smiled, and clapped her on the shoulder, "My girl knows what's good for her Murphy," he stood, showcasing his size and height, ever the protective best friend, "and it's not you."

Murphy opened his mouth to spit back a retort, but Roma stepped forward. She murmured his name, and jerked her head towards a group of guards against the wall, watching what was happening. Deciding it wasn't worth the trouble to start something with the son of the guards' boss, he tipped his head at Rachel with a sneer, and walked away.

When he and his gang had retreated into one of the side rooms on the promenade, the group and the table fell into uproarious laughter. Jasper actually fell off the table, and stayed on the floor as he howled. The rest of them grabbed at each other while they giggled, gasping for breath in between bouts of laughter.

By the wall, the guards smiled too.

The gossip about Murphy's failed proposition faded quickly when, a few days later, Octavia Blake was released from solitary. She'd been in there for months, while the council debated what to do with her, and investigated how she -the only second child on the Ark- had been kept hidden for nearly sixteen years.

None of the other prisoners talked to her. And she seemed to like it that way. She kept to herself, sat in a corner of the promenade during the day, either reading or simply watching the others in the prison. She was an anomaly, something that shouldn't exist, that no one on the Ark had any clue how to deal with. Harper had tried to talk to her once, but only got one or two word answers, and eventually gave up.

Octavia Blake, even when surrounded by people her own age, people with similar stories, remained alone.

After these two interruptions, Miller and Rachel's life in prison fell back into a pleasant rhythm, and they were glad for it. They now had only two months to go until they would be reviewed, released, and could continue on with their lives. Although they felt guilty _knowing_ that they'd be released when their new friends' fates were uncertain, they were relieved that they could soon move on from their mistake.

But the day that the group had planned to celebrate the six-week mark until Miller's review, the group was approached at their table by several guards. Guards that, Rachel had noticed, seemed to be taking extra shifts in the Skybox.

"Jordan, Kane, McIntyre, Miller, and Monroe. Come with me." He walked away, towards one of the doors off of the promenade that none of them had ever seen opened, a line of about twenty prisoners was waiting outside it, and more were being led there by guards. The other guards stepped behind the group, separating the five that were called from the others.

Warily, they followed, and were lined up with the others at the door. They waited, chatter among those in line growing every second. After several moments of suspense, the door opened.

They were led down a hallway, one by one. The passage was narrow, the lights dim, everyone had gone silent. Everything about the situation unsettled Rachel. That is, until the prisoner at the front of the line reached a door, it opened, and she saw her dad.

He stepped out of the way of the boy, and the line filed past him into whatever room they were being led to. But Rachel wasn't afraid anymore, nothing truly bad could happen to her as long as her father was there. She prepared herself to ask him what was happening as she walked by him, but when she opened her mouth, he shook his head, something like pity in his eyes.

"Sit," was all he whispered, but he gave her shoulder a slight squeeze as she walked past him.

The room looked like a converted storage room, and had about thirty chairs all pointed at the front of the room, where Rachel's former teacher, Charles Pike stood, leaning against a table. Rachel sat in the second to the front row, in front of Miller, who leaned forward, "Did your dad say anything?" he whispered.

"No, but something's up, he doesn't look right," she said back, eyes scanning the room, and the people in it. Murphy was there, sitting by Roma and Mbege. Jasper was sitting in the back of the room, Harper had claimed the seat next to Rachel, and Monroe sat next to Jasper. There were criminals from petty thieves to attempted murderers, Rachel couldn't find a commonality with any of them, nor could she find any clues as to _why_ they were here.

Octavia Blake was the last to enter, avoiding eye contact with any of her fellow prisoners, and taking a seat at the very front. Then there was silence. The prisoners looked around, each of them as confused as Rachel. She looked back at her father, only to find him, along with the Chancellor and Abby Griffin, leaving the room.

Pike looked over the room, the same pity in his eyes that Kane had, and spoke with a slightly choked voice, "Welcome to Earth Skills."


	3. Chapter 2

The loud metallic clanking of their cell doors being opened startled both Rachel and Harper awake. As their eyes adjusted to the sudden bright light coming in from the hall, they could just make out the shapes of two guards entering the room. These weren't the guards who had been escorting them to the Earth Skills classes the past two weeks, besides, it was too early for that. One of the men, a huge brute, stayed in the doorframe, enormous arms crossed. The other, a middle aged man named Carsen, approached Harper, grabbing her wrist to pull her towards him, before clamping something around the opposite wrist. She yelped in pain.

As the guard dropped her arms to walk back across the room, more prisoner's screams and raised voices came into the room from the other cells. Rachel crawled backwards on her bed until she was pressed against the corner. "Carsen, what's going on?" she demanded, glancing across the room at her friend who cradled her now braceleted hand.

The guard stretched his arm towards her, "Give me your wrist, Rachel, I need to put this on." He took the second metal bracelet off his belt, presenting it to her. The silver metal was about half an inch thick, with several sharp needles sticking out from the bottom, the reason why Harper had yelled. But Rachel pulled her arm closer to her, fear and confusion not letting her obey the order of one of her father's close friends.

"Hurry up, sir," the large man in the door grumbled, "We need to get them on board."

Carsen turned to him, "Take her," he gestured to Harper, "I'll be out in a minute." Grunting his compliance, the man stalked across the room and grabbed Harper's arm to drag her from the cell, ignoring her calls back to her cellmate.

Once her cries were indistinguishable from the other delinquent's voices from the hall, Carsen turned back to Rachel, "I'm not the one who can explain this to you, Rachel. To be honest, I don't entirely understand it myself, but you need to give me your wrist." When she still only stared back at him, Carsen continued more sternly, "Rachel, you need to cooperate. We've been given orders to use force if you don't."

The dark, pitying look in his brown eyes convinced her more than his threats, but Rachel still offered her wrist. After recovering from the sharp sting of the needles, Carsen helped her off the cot, and escorted her out into the hall, where she joined the line of frightened delinquents headed out of the skybox.

Everyone was silent as they were marched down the empty hallways. The expressions of the delinquents all looked the same, a mix of fear, confusion, and hurt that made them all look as if they were walking towards their death. For all they knew, they were.

Rachel rubbed anxiously at the heavy bracelet now on her wrist, her skin still stinging from the needles. She tried to scan the faces of the people in line around her. The only one she saw that she really knew was John Murphy, none of the people around her were her friends. No Nate. No Harper. No Monroe or Sterling. No Jasper or Monty. Despite the fact that she seemed to be facing her imminent death, what made her the most afraid was the fact that she was alone.

But when they reached the end of the hallway and entered a large room, her dad was there. He and Abby Griffin casually surveyed the delinquents ahead of her. No concern for what know would happen to them soon. Rachel couldn't control the sob that came out of her, nor could she control the tears that has started to pour as she launched herself out of the line and into her father's arms. Pleas and words of anger spilled from her mouth incoherently, but she was too scared and too mad at him to care.

Her father waved away the guards that moved to pull her off of him, before doing so himself. He held her at arm's length, his large hands gripping her shoulders hard to keep her upright. "Rachel," he pleaded, his dark eyes showing nothing that looked like concern, just something hidden behind layers and layers of his calm façade "you have to get on the dropship."

"Dropship?" anger began to overpower Rachel's fear. She shook off Kane's hands and stood as tall as she could, "Why are you doing this to us? Is this our punishment? Is this some sort of mass floating? None of the people here are eighteen yet!" She waved her bracelet arm at the line, still moving slowly, and saw a small girl that didn't even look like a teenager yet. She turned back to Kane. " _How_ can you do this to us? To _me?_ " she lowered her voice, "You said Nate and would be pardoned when we turned 18."

Kane grabbed her shoulders again, harder this time, his grip so strong that it hurt her. "Rachel, you're not getting floated. You're all being sent down to Earth."

All of Rachel's emotions floated away. Her mind was suddenly encased in a thick fog. She stopped hearing what he was saying, only a few hushed words drifted in, a concern about oxygen or something. She didn't even register the gurney that briefly stopped beside her. Earth _was_ a fantasy, but one that didn't last long before Rachel's senses returned. Earth was still a wasteland. Was still soaked in radiation. None of them could survive on it. Could they?

The fog around her mind lifted, and she heard what Kane was still saying. "Down there, they'll need someone like you. You're a leader, a fighter, and you're so smart. They'll need someone like you to be in charge." Rachel bit her lips so that she wouldn't spit back what he was leaving out, _if you survive._

Kane pulled at her shoulders to bring her in for a hug, but she yanked herself away from him. He was killing all of these people. All of these kids, her friends, and her, his own daughter. There was nothing she could say that would do justice to the storm of emotions in her, so she just looked away from him and let the guards push her back into the line. She followed the delinquents in front of her again until she reached the door of the dropship, and that storm of emotions reached a peak.

She froze. Tears still spilling down her cheek. She couldn't move. The guard in the door motioned for her to move, but she couldn't. She tried, but her feet wouldn't budge. Her heartbeat began so rapidly rise, her stomach started to churn, and her breathing became harder and faster. She felt like she was going to die before she even reached Earth.

Then a hand grabbed her arm, dragging her forward. A gruff voice whispered to her, "let's go," and then she was on the dropship.

A ladder was directly in front of her, three guards standing around it to push delinquents up. But the hand around her arm yanked her to the right of it, behind a tall metal wall that divided the ship in two. She took note of who she passed before she was pulled to a far, dark corner of the ship with all empty seats. Nate was there, and Monroe and Sterling. But from the seat the guard has put her in, she couldn't see their faces. Only when the tan hands of the guards moved to buckle her in, did she snap out of her trance and look at his face.

He wasn't a guard. She knew all the guards. But something about him seemed familiar. While he strapped her shoulders in, she carefully studied his handsome features, until it clicked.

"Blake."

He froze, fingers in the air above the final buckle of her seat. As Rachel felt a surge of triumph at discovering him, she noticed that the panic that had overtaken her at the ships door had stopped. But her heart once again sped up as she watched his eyes at last move to her face.

* * *

 _Shit. Shit shit shit,_ Bellamy thought as the cold green eyes of Rachel Kane bore into him. Of course the random girl he picked to help him sneak onto the ship would be the only one who could recognize him, out him, and ruin his plan. He could try to knock her out to keep her quiet, but he wasn't sure he could do it without attracting attention from either the guards, or the other kids on the ship.

"What are you doing here? You were _dishonorably_ discharged a year ago," her cool calculating voice, so similar to how her father spoke, cut into his thoughts. Still holding her gaze, Bellamy finished fastening her buckles and made his move. Bracing one arm on the wall behind her head, blocking her view of the other prisoners, Bellamy hardened his expression and tried to stare her down.

"Don't make a sound," he ordered, his voice not as threatening as he wanted it to be, "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm not here to hurt any of you."

"Where'd you get the uniform?" she demanded. _Of course_ she'd be unafraid of him, even after the panic attack she almost had that Bellamy had briefly hoped would make her a little easier to deal with. That was a question he couldn't answer, if she knew how he'd acquired the uniform, what he had done to get onboard this ship…he just couldn't answer that.

He sighed, partly from frustration, and partly from nerves, and started again. "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help…someone." Her eyebrows raised, he had her attention now. "My sister."

Realization spread over her fine features, "Octavia."

Relief washed over Bellamy, and he dropped his hand from the wall. "Yes, do you know her?" Rachel nodded slightly. "Where is she?" his heart started to race. After a year, after their mom floated, after he'd lost everything, he was finally going to be with Octavia again.

But Rachel shook her head, "I haven't seen her today," Bellamy turned away from her, running a hand along the back of his head. A grunt and the sound of shuffling clothes from the front of the ship tore him from his thoughts. He craned his neck to see to the front of the dropship, only a handful of delinquents remained at the door. None of them Octavia.

Turning back behind the wall, Bellamy again spoke to Rachel, who was significantly calmer, "She's been with this group, right? In the same section, in the earth skills classes?" she nodded, her light brown hair falling from behind her ears. "She must be on the second level," _but I can't go up there, they'll notice me._

"All loaded, final check!" a guard called from the front of the ship. Knowing he'd be discovered soon, and entirely out of options, Bellamy turned back to the girl he had brought onto the ship, and crouched in front of her.

"Help me."

* * *

Rachel stared at Bellamy's pleading face. He was just trying to do for his sister what her father had refused to do her. If Octavia was on the upper level, he couldn't go up there. If the guards discovered him, he'd be floated. He didn't deserve that. She looked around them, some of the seats near her had started to be filled, but not all of the seats would be.

She leaned towards Bellamy, "you have two options. One, take off the guard jacket and hide it somewhere, strap yourself into a seat and pretend you're one of us, and the rest of the guards may just ignore you."

Bellamy stood, rubbing a hand over his eyes and through his dark hair. It was very nice hair, Rachel noticed before he spoke, "No, they've been guarding all of you specifically for months, they know all of your faces."

"Okay," Rachel said, she looked to the back of the small crevice they were in, to a metal door, a closet, "then go in there, hide until you hear the doors close, then come strap yourself in."

Bellamy looked at the closet, then back at her. She could see it click, and he smiled. A broad, warm, almost infectious smile. Shaking off her own urge to smile, Rachel motioned towards the closet door, "hurry, they'll be coming back here soon."

As she watched the metal door click shut behind him, Rachel realized, whether he had meant to or not, that Bellamy had saved her from her own fear.

* * *

Rachel smiled a little as Bellamy buckled himself in next to her, murmuring quick thanks to her as he did. Their plan has gone perfectly. Even though the doors had only just closed, the dropship was already shaking violently as it was released from its clamps. He looked to his right, and saw Rachel's pale fingers wrapped tight around her belts, her eyes shut tight, and her lips moving ever so slightly. He felt a twinge of concern, despite his own nervousness, asked her "Rachel, are you gonna be okay?"

She nodded tightly, "I think so," the ship jumped, rattling everything on it. With a forced smile, she laughed unconvincingly, "I hope so."

Then the shaking stopped.

Bellamy looked around, everything was still and everyone was quiet.

"And we're off," Rachel heard Miller's joke from the other side of the dropship, and despite herself, smiled a little. She turned toward his voice, and found Bellamy, smiling at her.

"This isn't too bad aft- "

A loud, metallic screech interrupted him as the dropship lurched, and began to shake again. At the same moment, screens on the dropship's walls came on, and Chancellor Jaha stared them all down.

"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now," Bellamy face drained as he looked at the screen, and listened to the words Jaha spoke. "You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us-"

Bellamy let out a pitiful laugh, and looked away from the screen. Rachel thought to ask what was wrong, but instead remained focused on Jaha.

"-indeed for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would have sent other. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you…expendable."

 _Then why am I here?_ Rachel thought, her attention drawn to the second level, where a voice that sounded like Jasper called "Your dad's a dick Wells!"

"But if, however, you _do_ survive, those crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean."

 _Wells? Is Wells here too?_ Growing chatter from the rest of the prisoners tore Rachel's attention away from the screens, from what the Chancellor was saying. She turned back to Bellamy, "Jaha wouldn't really have put his own son on here, would he?"

Bellamy looked back at her, and shrugged, "your dad put you here."

He was right. Knowing that caused Rachel eyes to sting, and she turned back away, only faintly hearing Jaha's instructions for how to survive -if they even could survive. Several cheers came from the second level, and Rachel blinked back her tears, "He wouldn't have put me here unless he knew that- "

The ship jerked again, as if it had hit something, but it continued to drop. Screams echoed all around the ship, and a crash sounded from the upper levels. Rachel squeezed her eyes, and held onto her straps as hard as she could. Jaha's voice had stopped, but now Bellamy was frantically whispering to her.

"That was just the parachutes deploying, to slow us down so that we can land." She could tell from his voice he was talking to keep himself calm as much as he was to help her, but she was still grateful. "In a second, the retrorockets will fire, and we'll slow down even more, so our landing will be soft."

He stopped, waiting. Rachel kept her eyes closed, focusing on slowing her breathing, and listening for the rockets to start. She heard nothing.

"Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"It's been more than a second."

"Yeah."

* * *

Kane's screens went dark. Two monitors, showed only static. The middle screen, which showed Rachel's vitals, started glowing red, the line showing her heart rate sharply rose. He stood so quickly his chair spun back into the wall, but he didn't care. He stalked across the control room, towards Sinclair. Callie burst in towards him, he waved her away with a gesture and a brisk "not now."

Sinclair faced him, clearly upset, but in the way a scientist is when his experiment doesn't go as planned. Kane was a father who had just lost all contact with his daughter, who could be dead soon.

"Total system failure," the scientist reported, looking between his clipboard and the councilman in front of him, "that's what we're looking at. All we know for sure is that they were off course when we lost contact, so…"

Kane swallowed, nearly all of his effort was going towards keeping calm. "Tell me about communications," he ordered, trying not to feel bad about how nervous he seemed to make Sinclair.

"Other than the telemetry from their wristbands," he glanced at each of his own monitors, Kane looked towards the rooms main screens, to Rachel's stats, her heart rate was still high, but not as much as it had been a few moments ago. _That's my girl_ , Kane thought as he turned back to Sinclair, "we got nothing. No audio, no video, no computer link." He looked back up, "Everything that we programmed in to help them in gone. They're on their own."

Kane clenched the fist he didn't know he had made, and stared at the metal of Sinclair's desk. Callie set one of her hands on his shoulder, but instead of comforting him, it only heightened his nerves. He slammed his fist down on the desk hard enough for his ring to make a dent in the metal, "Dammit!"

* * *

When the rockets finally fired, the dropship shook harder than when the parachutes had opened, the light inside the dropship flickered, and screams filled the air. Bellamy forced his eyes to remain open as he took it all in. But as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The lights faded, then slowly came back on. A tense silence filled the ship.

"Listen," a soft voice said from the second level, "no machine hum."

Another responded, "Whoa, that's a first."

Bellamy glanced over at Rachel, who, underneath her tears, seem relieved. She whispered something he couldn't hear, and undid her buckles. The clicking of many more releasing, and people chattering soon filled his ears, and he quickly released his own restraints and followed Rachel to the other side of the wall. She was desperately hugging a tall guy in a beanie, so Bellamy continued forward, the delinquents seeming to part to make a path to the door for him.

 _The uniform,_ he remembered, they all thought he was a guard, someone to be respected and obeyed. If they only knew. But for now, he decided to let them believe he was in charge, he was older after all, if only by a few years. When he reached the door, more kids had filtered down from the upper levels, and started to crowd the door.

"Hey!" he called, surprised to see them all snap to attention, "Just back it up guys." He spotted Rachel near the wall, standing next to the beanie guy and two others, she smiled at him, and he smiled back slightly before turning to the door controls, but before he could pull the lever, someone yelled at him from the ladder.

"Stop!" the blonde girl called. She climbed off the ladder and pushed her way towards him, "The air could be toxic."

"If the air's toxic we're all dead anyway," he retorted, something about this girl had already rubbed him the wrong way. But again, before he could open the door, someone called to him from the ladder.

"Bellamy?"

 _Octavia_. A wave of relief flooded him and he watched her hop off the ladder and approach him, "My God," he sighed, unable to contain his smile, "look how big you are."

She smiled back, wrapping her arms around him for the first time in months, but she pulled back, taking in his clothes with skepticism, "What the hell are you wearing, a guard's uniform?"

"I borrowed it, to get on the dropship," he explained, trying to keep his voice low so others wouldn't hear, but in the close quarters, he knew they did anyways. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you," he pulled her in for another hug, laughing with joy that he _finally_ had his sister back.

"Where's your wristband?"

Bellamy pulled back to see the blonde from before eyeing his wrist.

"Do you mind?" Octavia asked, "I haven't seen my brother in a year."

The crowd heard her, and people started shouting.

"No one has a brother!" one guy yelled from the second level.

A girl in the back pointed at her, "That's Octavia Blake! The girl they found hidden in the floor!"

Octavia started towards them, showing a new, angry side that Bellamy had never seen, "Octavia. Octavia no!" he had to hold her back to keep her from going after the girl. "Let's give them something else to remember you by."

She broke out of his hold, "Yeah? Like what?'

He grinned, "Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years." She smiled, and nodded.

* * *

Rachel watched as Bellamy pulled the level, and the door burst open, sending blindingly bright light into the dropship. Nate put his hand in front of his face to block it, and whispered to no one in particular, "Holy. Shit."

They all watched in awe as Octavia Blake took her first few steps down the ramp, stretched her arms and took a deep breath of _Earth_ air. From where she was, Rachel couldn't see much, most of the delinquents were taller than her, but she could see light and green, and it was beautiful.

Octavia walked the next few steps down the ramp, and jumped down, onto the ground. She raised her arms in triumph, and shouted with a voice so joyful Rachel could practically hear her smile, "We're back, bitches!"


	4. Chapter 3

In what seemed like an instant, every delinquent that was onboard the dropship ran down the ramp and into the woods. Laughing and hollering, they danced around trees, taller than anything they had ever seen, high off of the freshest air they had ever breathed. It smelled so different from the cold metallic smell of the Ark, it was damp, and filled with the scent of dirt and pine.

Rachel stared up at the trees, at the sunlight streaming through them, so enthralled with being on Earth that she was taken completely by surprise when someone barreled into her from behind, nearly tackling her to the ground as they wrapped their arms around her.

"Can you believe it, Rach? We're here! _Here!_ " Nate laughed as he spoke, lifting Rachel, also laughing, off the ground and spinning her around. "Oh my god, and we're alive!"

When he finally put her down, Rachel couldn't help but turn around and hug him too, before pulling abruptly back, suddenly fearful, "Is everyone here?"

Nate nodded, "Yeah, Monty and I were some of the first on the dropship, they took him, Jasper, and Harper up the ladder. I heard them after we landed. Sterling and Monroe were by me."

"Yeah, I saw them," Rachel said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back to dropship, looking for their friends as they went. They spotted Jasper first, in what looked like a tense conversation with Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha.

When he saw them, Nate scoffed, "They _had_ to come too, didn't they?" He and Rachel had never got along with them too well; the pairs were never unfriendly or impolite, but their dynamic had unfortunately been shaped by those of their parents, and animosity soon sprouted.

Their complaints were cut short though, when Wells grabbed Jasper's arm and began pushing him away from Clarke. "We'd better go rescue him," Nate growled, already stalking towards the ship.

Rachel nodded, and followed him, but broke away to stand with Monty when they reached the ramp. Nate put a hand on Wells' shoulder and pulled, breaking the slightly taller boy's grip on Jasper's arm. "Keep your hands off of him, Jaha," he snarled, "he's with us."

Jasper stumbled over to stand by Rachel and Monty, all three watching as Murphy and Mbege's gang approached too, some of them carrying large tree limbs like weapons, all of them eager to see this escalate. But Wells just stepped back, putting his hands up, "Relax, Nathan. Clarke and I are just trying to figure out where we are."

"We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?" Bellamy shouted from behind Rachel. She turned to him, surprised to see how much his demeanor had changed in the short time since the dropship landed. He seemed infinitely more confident, a crooked, cocky smile on his face, even as he stared down the son of the Chancellor.

"We need to find Mount Weather," Wells said, walking up the hill towards Bellamy, followed by Clarke. Both were obviously nervous being surrounded by criminals, but Wells kept up his diplomatic façade "You heard my father's message, that has to be our first priority."

Octavia scoffed, "Screw your father." Wells' eyebrows scrunched, obviously shocked that someone would insult the Chancellor so openly, but Octavia spoke again before he could protest, "What, you think you're in charge here, you and your little princess?"

All eyes turned to Clarke, who ignored Octavia's jibe. "Do you think we care who's in charge?" she asked, "We _need_ to get to Mount Weather, not because the Chancellor said so," she turned her head, facing all the delinquents who had gathered, "but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get, and the harder this'll be. How long do you think we'll last without those supplies?"

Rachel scrunched her eyebrows as Clarke continued, "We're looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we wanna get there before dark, we need to leave. _Now_."

As much as Rachel hated to admit it, she knew Clarke was right. All that had been left for them in the dropship were a few tools and a bunch of tarp from the parachute. Not even any water or rations. She looked up at Nate, who she could tell was struggling with the same thought. But who knew what could be lurking in the woods on the way to Mount Weather, they could die before they even reached it, or worse yet, they could get there and realize it had been destroyed by the bombs. The more she thought about it, the more she thought it'd be better to wait at the dropship until they knew they _could_ get to Mount Weather.

Bellamy apparently shared her opinion. "I got a better idea. You two go, find it for us. Let the privileged to the hard work for a change." The gathered crowd loved this, all shouting their approval for the plan. Bellamy turned his eyes to Rachel, and for a moment she worried he was going to throw her and Nate to the wolves too, but only flicked up the corner of his mouth and looked back at Clarke.

"You're not listening, we all need to go" Wells pleaded, before he was sharply pushed from behind.

"Look at this, everybody," Murphy taunted, "The Chancellor of Earth." Wells barely had time to respond before Murphy kicked his leg, sending him to the ground. Clarke dove for him, only to be held back by Mbege, forced to helplessly watch and Wells stood back up and prepared to fight Murphy. But before any blows landed, another boy jumped down from a landing on the dropship, and with a few hushed words, had Murphy walking away.

"Who is that guy?" Rachel asked Monty, watching as Octavia, with a newfound swagger she had never shown in prison, began flirting with him.

"Finn Collins. They call him 'Spacewalker,'" he said, watching as the long-haired boy sauntered away, "He went on an illegal spacewalk and released a month's worth of oxygen."

Jasper ran up behind them, slapping a hand down on each of their shoulders, "It was awesome. Hey, any of you seen Harper, Monroe, or Sterling?"

"No," Miller looked around, most of the delinquents were starting to scatter again, but he didn't see Harper's blonde braid anywhere. He looked at Rachel, then jerked his head towards the woods. She nodded in agreement. Monty and Jasper opted out of coming with, so the two walked off in the woods to look for their friends.

They didn't have to look long, all three were only a little way off in the woods, where they had found a patch of grass, longer and greener than what was around the dropship, with tiny flowers that speckled the small meadow with white. All three were lying there in the grass, laughing hysterically. When Rachel and Miller saw them, they couldn't help but grin too.

Miller ran forward, shouting "Make room for me!" before launching himself into the pile of friends, causing a new wave of laughter. Rachel followed soon after. They all stayed there for an hour, sharing the joy of being on the ground, the ground that was so lush and beautiful, and _alive._

After a while, Sterling and Monroe left to look around more, and Harper fell asleep after helping Rachel take out her tight braid, letting her natural curls poof up into a caramel-colored halo around her face in the humidity of Earth that it never got on the ark. Miller reclined next to Rachel, his bunched up jacket serving as a makeshift pillow while he watched the light stream through the forest.

Sitting cross-legged and playing with the newfound springiness of her hair, Rachel found herself again thinking of the last moments she had with her father. She replayed the words he had said, and the venomous ones she had spat back at him. She cringed at the memory.

"Why the long face, Rach?" Miller asked, looking briefly away from the sky and towards her.

Rachel gave the best smile she could muster, "I saw my father before we got on the dropship," Miller nodded calmly, he was always so good at listening when she was feeling down. "What he said made it seem like it was the Council that sent us down here, but why?"

"Some kind of mass floating?"

She shook her head, "That's what I thought, but no one here is eighteen."

"Besides, they wouldn't want to waste an exodus ship on something like that," Miller uncrossed his arms from behind his head and checked to make sure Harper was still asleep, "And, you know, we're here."

"Yeah, there's that." Rachel checked Harper too, though she didn't think she'd tell anyone. They'd been careful in the Skybox that no one knew that their pardon had been prearranged, and with no guards to step in, they would have to be even more careful that no one found out. "Why then?"

"Does it matter?" Bellamy's voice came out of nowhere, and suddenly he was there, walking gracefully down the hill above them. He still seemed much different than he had on the dropship, seeing him this new way almost made Rachel forget that he probably heard their secret. He reached the bottom of the hill, standing in front of the delinquents.

Rachel quickly stood up. Nate gently hit Harper's arm, waking her up, and stood with his arms crossed behind her, ready to defend his best friend as best he could. But before his too-quick tongue could cause trouble, Bellamy turned away from him, instead facing Rachel fully.

"No matter why he did it," he spoke softly, but something in his face was hard, his demeanor different, "Kane still sent you down here knowing you would probably die." Rachel stared back at him, at his dark eyes that seemed to know how deep his words had cut her. He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder at Nate, "Your dad too, beanie."

Nate scowled, "It's Miller."

Bellamy smirked, "My point still stands, Miller." He faced Rachel, "That's not why I came to find you, though, all of you." He strolled past Rachel, and leaned against one of the huge trees that Rachel still couldn't get used to seeing. "I need your help."

After a brief moment of shock, Rachel finally spoke, strolling towards him, Nate and Harper trailing close behind her, "With what? I saw you walking around earlier with Murphy and his guys, why not ask them?"

Bellamy lifted his eyes, scanning the canopy of the tress, unable to keep his wonder in check, his confidence fading slightly, "Have you ever read _The Lord of the Flies?_ "

"Heard of it," Nate said, "Can't say I've read it."

"My mom used to read me a bunch of old stories. Ancient history was always my favorite, but I liked some fiction too." Bellamy stood from the tree and came to stand almost uncomfortably close to Rachel, " _Lord of the Flies_ is about a bunch of kids who get stranded on an island alone, no adults. Know what happens to them?" He raised an eyebrow, and cocked his head, not waiting for an answer, "They kill each other. Murphy and Mbege and all of those are the kids from the story. You and I are the ones who stop them from killing anyone who pisses them off."

Rachel understood, "You want us to help you be the leader."

"I want you to help me _lead_. Communication with the Ark is gone. I say good riddance, they're the ones who locked all of you up anyways. You heard it back there, Jaha's kid and that Clarke girl still want to follow their rules, they want to be the ones in charge. I think we're better off without the Ark, without their rules, and we definitely don't need a mini-Jaha down here. We need new leaders."

Rachel crossed her arms, mimicking Bellamy's pose, and tried her best to intimidate him down, but she was so small that even with her hair loose and large, the tips of is barely reached his chin, "By that logic, wouldn't I just be a 'mini-Kane'? Wouldn't Nate just be a new Chief Guard?"

Bellamy looked her over, and smiled. _A very different smile from the dropship_ , Rachel noticed. This one was crooked, and came with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "No, you two are different. I can tell." He uncrossed his arms, tried to soften his posture, "Look, I don't know these people. You do. You were raised to have the skills that I just don't have, I need you." He looked up at Miller over Rachel's head, "Both of you, too."

Rachel looked back to her friends. Miller glanced at Bellamy, then back at her. A raise of his eyebrows and a tilt of his head let her know what his answer was. It was her call; he'd follow her decision. Harper nodded along, she was down too.

"So?" Bellamy asked, looking at Rachel as if he too had understood the unspoken conversation.

She took a deep breath, turned to the disgraced cadet, and nodded. "We're in."

"Ok, I'll follow you into this, to be honest, I would've made the same choice," Nate was blabbering on as he followed Rachel and Harper back to the dropship, though neither was paying much attention to him, "but I just _gotta_ know, why'd you say yes?"

Rachel sighed, somewhat overdramatically, and spun to face him. Her hand landed on a scratched part of one of the trees, a dark, sticky liquid coating her fingers. She wiped the sap off on a dry part of the tree bark and looked up at her friends, "Because," she took a deep breath, "He was right. Whether my dad sent me down because he thought it might give me a chance to live on Earth, he still sent me down here knowing that I'd probably die. I don't want to have leadership down here that would let parents do that to their kids, things should be different down here."

Miller pursed his lips, nodding. Harper shot her a wicked grin, "So, parents 'down here'? Who ya plannin' to shack up with?" she and Miller waggled their eyebrows and cackled, both drawing back from the half-hearted punches Rachel threw at them, laughing out their surrenders.

Rachel hit Miller one more time, then pulled away, giggling a little herself. "Come on, we need to go figure some stuff out."

They walked back towards the dropship, past delinquents climbing trees, goofing around, and doing some other… _things_ that they certainly weren't allowed to do in lock-up. They came to the dropship, the door still down, forming a ramp that Bellamy now sat at the top of, sharpening what looked like a very rusted axe. Murphy and Mbege sat below him, both sharpening and working scraps of metal as best they could into makeshift knives. Roma Bragg sat above them, very close to Bellamy, only half-heartedly working on her own weapon. She spent more of her time eyeing her new leader.

Murphy smirked at Rachel as she walked up the ramp, Nate and Harper stayed behind, exchanging snarky quips with the rest of Bellamy's new gang. Sterling and Monroe had joined them- Jasper and Monty had apparently joined Clarke on her Mount Weather expedition -all four keeping an eye on their friend as she walked past some of the most dangerous criminals of the delinquents. As she came to the top, Murphy tugged on one of her shoelaces, and smirked, "Nice of you to finally join us, Kane."

She ignored him, instead focusing only on Bellamy, "There's no water that close to us, no obvious sources of food either. I know you don't like it, but Clarke was right. Eventually, we're gonna have to make our way to Mount Weather if we want to survive."

Diggs, one of Murphy's crew, groaned, "Let Jaha and the princess figure that out when they get back, they're working hard enough already." He threw a small stone to where Wells was setting down more firewood next to the dropship.

"Why don't you go help him," Nate said, cocking his head to one side and giving him his smuggest grin, "we don't know how cold it'll get tonight. Fire's not a half-bad idea."

Diggs, obviously affronted, swiveled to face Bellamy, who nodded, and motioned with axe to the fire, "Atom, Connor, you go too." All three boys looked like they might argue, but reluctantly stood and started towards the wood pile.

Rachel smiled, watching Miller take advantage of his apparent superior status, "Move it all inside too!" he shouted as they walked away, "Damp wood's good for nothing." When he laughed and turned back to Monroe and Sterling, she looked back down at the knife Murphy was carving, starting to brainstorm where she too could find a weapon until she noticed something.

"Murphy, where's your wristband?" she didn't know how she had missed it. Murphy, Roma, all of the delinquents surrounding Bellamy, including those that were currently moving the wood Wells had gathered inside, were all sporting empty wrists.

The smarmy delinquent looked up from his project, "Mbege and me took ours off, then helped the others," he looked her over slowly, making sure she knew he did it, "Come sit, I'll help you with yours too."

Instinctively, Rachel's hand moved to her wrist to touch the cold metal on her left arm. She had joined Bellamy because she wanted to create a society better than the one on the Ark, but taking off the wristband would mean cutting herself off from it, and her father, completely. She just couldn't do that.

But she also couldn't come up with the words to express this without sparking ridicule from Murphy, so she just shook her head and walked away.


	5. Chapter 4

_Hi guys, writer here! First I just want to let y'all know that I'm so appreciative for all the views, follows, and reviews this story has received! It's more than I ever expected, and I am beyond grateful. In other business, I've received conflicting opinions from my betas on whether or not to include snippets of Kane's POV. One says cut it out completely, one says tell his whole story, and the last says to only include his important bits. Right now I'm going with beta #3, but I would love opinions from ya'll on what YOU want to see! So write a review or send me a message either here or at my tumblr: dearawrites_

 _Enjoy chapter 4!_

* * *

Bellamy silently followed Rachel away from the dropship and into the woods. He had though after their agreement at the meadow that she was with him, but she obviously wasn't fully. He _needed_ her to take off her wristband if he was going to convince the other delinquents they should too.

She stopped at the edge of a hill, and wrapped her arms around herself. Bellamy stopped a few feet behind her. He watched as she hung her head, and her back began to shake slightly; she was crying. Bellamy took a deep breath, steeling himself to approach her. He had managed to calm her down on the dropship, but he did that through her anger and suspicions, he had no idea how to handle _this_. Whenever Octavia has been upset, he told her the stories their mom had told him, but he was pretty sure that wasn't going to work with Rachel.

 _He had to do this_ , he told himself, cautiously stepping forward. As he got closer, he could hear her soft sobs, his heart ached a little at the pitiful sound. He felt for her, he had willingly come down to be with and protect his family, but she was here because her father had betrayed her.

Suddenly, he knew how to approach this.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel," he kept his voice as soft as possible, coming to stand next to her, looking forward but sliding his eyes over to her. She had pulled her head up, looking out on the small valley in front of them with her watery green eyes and as much pride as she could muster. But she didn't speak, so Bellamy did.

"Your dad was there, at the dropship," she nodded, clenching her eyes shut, a few tears spilling out of them, "did you get to talk to him?" she just sobbed again, letting her head fall as she lost control of her tears. She was even more vulnerable than she had been when Bellamy led her onto the ship. Sensing an opportunity to win her over, he reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "I don't know why he…why anyone would do that to their own kid."

He sighed, feeling slightly guilty for what he was about to say, "If I were you, I'd tear off that wristband just to stick it to him," he wasn't surprised when she froze, finally turning to look at him. Utter devastation was written all over her face, from what had happened to her in only the past few hours, but from Bellamy's words too.

Shoving aside the guilt that riled his stomach, Bellamy continued, "I mean, think about it Rachel, he oversees all of the law enforcement on the Ark. He could have stopped you from being arrested, from being put in lock-up, but he didn't." She looked away from him again, wiping tears off her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

"I don't know why we're down here," he said, stepping so close to her so she had no choice but to look up at him, "but I know that your father could have stopped you from being on that dropship. He didn't. So help me understand why you wanna keep that wristband on."

She sniffled, taking a moment to gather her strength before replying, "Because he's still my dad. I _have_ to believe he had a reason for sending me down here, or I'm not gonna be able to get through this."

"Look," Bellamy started, "If you're right, and he had a reason - maybe he knew that we could survive down here -he still sent you down here clueless, and definitely terrified." He laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood, but she didn't buy into it. "After all, if they know it's survivable down here, they're gonna follow us anyway, screw the wristbands. Why not take it off? If only to give Kane payback for today."

Rachel thought on Bellamy's words, scared to find that they felt right. She believed in her heart that her dad had only put her on the dropship because he thought it would be best for her, but all the evidence suggested otherwise. The wristbands, the secrecy, what Jaha had said in his video.

If Kane has sent her down here to survive, he had done it on only a hope and a prayer.

Bellamy had the knife she'd seen Murphy working on in his hand, ready to take the bracelet from her. She looked at it, felt its cool metal on her wrist, slightly damp from the fog. There was an entire atmosphere between her and her father, the wristband the only thing keeping them connected.

She braced herself, and offered her wrist, "Take it off."

Kane's heart stopped, his mind fuzzing over as the ringing of the alarm clouded out any other noise.

His monitor was flashing red, and he knew it's counterpart on the main screen was too. Two words, two terrible words, blinked over and over in front of Rachel's smiling picture.

 _TRANSMISSION TERMINATED_.

Slowly, he felt his heart start again, beating faster and faster with each carefully controlled breath. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, from the photo of his daughter, joy in her eyes, and a sweet smile on her face. He couldn't even look below it, to the vital signs that had just disappeared, the heartbeat that just dropped to zero.

He didn't notice how everyone else in the room froze. All eyes were trained on him, nervously waiting to see what he would do.

What he wanted to do was find Abby Griffin and throttle her. This had all been her plan. Her wristbands. Her idea.

Now _his_ daughter was dead because of it. Because of her.

And because of him. He had let her talk him into putting Rachel on that ship, believed her ramblings about giving her a better future, a better life. She had fit the profile perfectly, they needed someone with her skills in the 100. So he had agreed. After all, it was his duty as a father to give his child the best chance at a better life.

But now she didn't even have a life to live.

Abby Griffin would pay for that.

Even though the wristband had only been on for a day, Rachel's wrist felt strange and light without its weight. She stared at it for a moment, at the small dots marking where it's needles had gone into her skin. A small bit of blood welled from one of them, and she wiped it away with a finger, pressing onto the cut to stop more from coming out.

"Feel better?" Bellamy asked, pulling her out of her trance. He held the wristband in one hand, and his knife in the other.

Rachel nodded, "I think so."

He smiled, "Good, now let's head back to camp. We have work to do."

She followed him back to the dropship, where everyone was still sitting on the entrance ramp. Miller, Harper, Monroe and Sterling had joined Murphy's gang in sharpening pieced of metal from the hull into makeshift knives; the two groups were surprisingly getting along well. Bellamy turned back to her, handing her the knife he has used to remove her bracelet.

"Murphy, Mbege," he ordered, the two delinquents obediently snapping their heads up from their weapons, "help Miller and his friends get their wristbands off."

"What?" Miller stood, brows furrowed with confusion and a little bit of anger. He turned to Rachel, who suddenly felt the urge to hide her left arm behind her back. After a quick nervous glance at Bellamy, he looked back at her, an obvious question in his eyes.

She swallowed, bringing her arm out from behind her back, letting her friends see the smooth brown skin where her wristband once was. Looking over all of them, she nodded her approval at Bellamy's order.

Miller nodded back, though she could tell he was still apprehensive. He walked over to Murphy, shooting one suspicious look back at her before holding his hand out to him. The delinquent pulled out a crude knife and slid it carefully under the metal.

"Don't bother being gentle," Miller crooned, a smug mocking in his voice as he smirked down at Murphy, "this isn't my first time." He laughed at his own joke, but only received a scowl and a rather rough jerk of Murphy's knife snapping off his wristband before he walked over to Harper to tear hers off.

Rachel watched as each of her friend's wristbands was snapped off. When it was done, all of them, including Murphy's crew, looked to Bellamy for his next order, but found him looking off into the trees. Rachel followed his eyes to the west, where the spaces between the trees seemed to be on fire they were so bright and orange. After a moment of being dazzled by the sight, she finally realized what she was looking at: the sunset.

"I never thought I'd see that," she said to no one, several murmurs and chuckles responding. But everyone stayed silent while they watched, letting darkness began to drape over them.

After several minutes more, Bellamy finally spoke, "I guess it's time to get that fire started, huh?"

It took them several minutes of arguing over the proper technique, but Sterling and one of Murphy's boys, Myles, finally got a fire started. It was a huge bonfire, and a crowd of the delinquents, already tired from the few hours they'd been on the ground, soon gathered around the heat.

Bellamy took the opportunity of the crowd and Clarke's continued absence to make his next move. He walked over to a short log a few guys had rolled over to the fire. With a raise of his eyebrow, the one sitting on it quickly moved, and Bellamy jumped up.

Most all eyes turned to him immediately, his age and guard uniform granting him immediate respect. He scanned the crowd, seeing Murphy's crew at the edge of the fire, Rachel and her friends right next to them. Both groups watched him with bated breath, and Bellamy took a moment to be smug at how easily he was able to win them over to his cause.

"Alright!" he shouted, everyone attention now on him, "By now you've heard that I'm not really a part of the Guard, but that doesn't matter. The wristbands the Ark gave you will bring the Guard down to us," several unsatisfied murmurs went through the crowd, "And you can be sure that they won't honor what Jaha said. Once they're here, you'll go back to what you were on the Ark: undervalued, underprivileged, and underappreciated."

This time, several angry shouts rose up, these kids were putty in his hands. Bellamy continued, "But it doesn't have to be that way down here! We can be the ones in charge, we can do whatever we want to do!" He grinned as his words were met with cheers, and even a small smirk on Rachel's lips. "All you have to do to make it happen, is take off your wristband."

Some people cheered again, others let theirs die down. This wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped. "I know that most of you have people you love on the Ark, but now is the time to be selfish. You can build a new life here, a better life, where you won't have to worry about getting floated for trying to help to people you care about. Down here, we can be better than the Ark. Who's with me?"

Murphy raised a long bar he had ripped from the dropship, and called for anyone willing to take off their wristbands. Much to Bellamy's delight, about half of those gathered quickly formed a disorganized line around him, and the first delinquent offered their arm.

One after another, wristbands were removed and tossed into the fire. A few outliers remained on the fringes of the group, but they didn't worry Bellamy. He obviously had the majority on his side. He'd be safe.

He watched on as the next girl, a small, shy thing that Bellamy had trouble believing was ever a criminal, had hers removed. "Who's next?"

But before whoever they were could step forward, Wells limped towards him, brows scrunched together in anger, "What the hell are you doing?"

"We're liberating ourselves, what does it look like?" He had to hold Mbege back, the violent boy more than eager to get his hands on Jaha's kid.

Wells, to his credit, held Bellamy's stare, not intimidated in the slightest by him. "It looks like your trying to get us all killed. The communication system is _dead_. These Wristbands are all we've got." He turned away, facing everyone gathered by the fire, "Take them off and the Ark will think we're dying, that it's not safe for them to follow."

"That's the point, Chancellor. We can take care of ourselves, can't we?" He barked at the crowd, who enthusiastically and loudly agreed with his, but kept his eyes locked on Wells.

"You think this is a game?" Wells' voice started to become desperate as he began to plead with the crowd, try as he might, he wasn't the orator his father was. "Those aren't just our friends and our parents up there, they're our farmer, our doctors, our engineers. I don't care what he tells you, we won't survive here on our own. And besides, if it really is safe, how could you not want the rest of our people to come down?"

Bellamy didn't notice that several of those lined up to get their wristbands taken off looked around before quickly stepping away. His vision had narrowed to Wells, who, with each word, stretched his patience thinner and thinner. " _My_ people are already down."

He stepped towards the Chancellor's son, wagging a finger at the sky " _Those_ people locked my people up. _Those_ people killed my mother for the crime of having a second child. Your _father_ did that." He had to concentrate to keep his breathing even, anger trying it's best to take over.

To his credit, Wells did look sympathetic, but it didn't help. "My father didn't write the laws."

"No. He enforced them, but not anymore. Not here." Bellamy found his anger fueling his words, each one coming easier and stronger than the last. So he decided to let them fly as he continued to stare down Wells, his volume climbing higher and higher as he continued to speak. "Here, there are no laws. Here, we do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want."

He watched with pleasure as Wells face began to fall as he once again stalked towards him. "Now, you don't have to like it Wells. You can even try to stop it, or change it…kill me. You know why? Whatever the hell we want."

Behind Bellamy, Murphy began leading a chant of "Whatever the hell we want!" His point made, he simply stepped away from Wells, and let his victory sink into both of them. The kid approached him as the chanting went on, looking like he had another argument on the tip of his tongue, but before he could get it out, it thundered.

Rachel had never thought she would hear thunder for real. It scared her. The rumbling was louder than she expected, making it seem like the sky itself would come crashing down on her. The closes thing she had ever heard to it was the time in her childhood when was woke up to space debris hitting the side of the Ark. Her father had immediately rushed in to calm her crying, and stayed with her the whole night to make sure she slept well.

She was snapped out of her memory by rain beginning to fall. Fat wet drops ran down her skin, colder than any shower she had ever taken on the Ark, but infinitely more refreshing. She closed her eyes and looked up, letting the water wash over her face as she soaked it it's feel.

"Holy crap this is amazing!" Nate squealed from behind her. She opened her eyes and looked to him. He had taken off his beanie and grabbed Harper's arm and waist, and was spinning her around while the two got soaked. Rachel laughed, looking around to see everyone else celebrating in a similar way.

Except Bellamy, he stood as she just had, arms spread wide, eyes closed, and face raised up to the sky. She stared at him like that for a while. Then, she didn't see the cocky criminal who had effectively taken command of 100 of the Ark's criminals, but she once again saw, if only for that brief moment. the kind, gently confident Bellamy she had met on the dropship.


	6. Chapter 5

_Howdy guys! Sorry this week's chapter is a little short, but I'm having surgery next Tuesday and I'll be missing a bunch of school for it, so I've been trying to get ahead on homework._

 _Enjoy! And let me know what y'all think! xx_

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Rachel was awoken the next day by sunlight. She and Miller had chosen to sleep outside with a few of the other delinquents, safe from the rain- had thankfully let up in the middle of the night -under the cover of the dropship's parachute, still caught a few feet off the ground on the low branches of the trees. She stared at the light shining through the red and white tarp for a while before getting up. There was more than enough to put together enough tents to house almost everyone, she'd have to talk to Bellamy about it when he woke up.

After deciding she'd had enough of Miller's snoring, she finally got up and carefully made her way out of the pile of teenagers back into the woods. Earth was even more beautiful at dawn. The light was softer, but still warm, and turned the spaces between the trees into glowing shafts of golden light. She stood there, just looking, pulling her jacket tight to her.

Her tranquility was interrupted, however, when she saw someone moving between the trees. Hoping it was Jasper and Monty returning, she ran towards them. But her heart sank when she found only Wells, the body of one of the boys that had died on the dropship in his arms. Curious, she followed him to a clearing a little ways away from the dropship.

She watched silently as he set the body down, picked up a shovel, and began to dig.

He was burying them.

Rachel stayed still behind a tree, watching as he dug a rough hole, only about half a foot into the ground, before going back to pick up the boy's body, and place it gently into the grave. He took extra care to make sure it was laid out in the proper way before he turned back to the shovel to cover it.

"We need to say a prayer for him." She finally stepped forward, before Wells could actually scoop any dirt on the body. He held the shovel in mid-air, obviously shocked to see anyone there, especially her.

She ignored his suspicion, and stepped towards the shallow grave, kneeling at the boy's side. "We can't put him to rest without giving him a prayer."

Wells shrugged, and set down his shovel. "I didn't think that mattered now, now that we're on the ground."

"It matters." She said, a little more bite in the words than she intended. "Besides, he didn't even get to see it." She saw him nod, and bow his head. "Do you know his name?"

"Glen. Glen Dickson."

"Alright." She straightened her jacket a bit in an attempt at some formality, and bowed her own head to pray. "In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again, Glen Dickson."

Both were quiet for several minutes, before Rachel stood, and approached Wells. "There was another, right?" He nodded. "I'll finish here, you go back to the dropship and get him."

Without saying anything, he walked away. Picking up the shovel, Rachel worked silently, building a mound of dirt over Glen's body. She tried to keep her mind either blank, or on the boy she was burying, but she couldn't stop thinking about the people at the dropship. What would they eat? Drink? Where would they sleep? Sure they had enough tarp for tents, but how would they set them up? What about beds? Blankets?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Wells returned, carrying another boy's body. He set it on the ground, and started stripping the boy's extra clothes off, leaving him in only his undershirt and pants, and added them to the pile of Glen's. After she finished the first mound, he held his hand out to Rachel. "I'll do the digging."

She let him take she shovel, and stood a few steps back while he started on the second grave. "It's very kind of you to do this for them."

He didn't look at her, he just kept digging. "Someone had to."

"Yeah," she stepped closer to him, prompting him to stop his work for a moment. "But I don't think anyone else here would have. I'm not even sure I would have." He blinked, obviously shocked at her kind words. She had never been rude to him, but there had always been a layer of distaste under her words. It wasn't there now, however. "You're a good guy Wells."

He glanced back down at the grave, then back up to her, and smiled. "Thanks, Rachel. For what it's worth, I've always thought that you're a pretty good person too, when you're not trying to be too much like your dad." She furrowed her brows, but ultimately chose to bit back a retort. "If I wasn't here, I think you would have done this." She smiled back at him. "Or at least, you would have gotten Nathan to do it for you."

They both chuckled softly, momentarily forgetting that they were here to bury someone. When they had finished, some of the animosity between them seemed to have lifted.

* * *

Everyone was awake by the time Rachel and Wells had buried the other boy and made their way back to the dropship. Wells carried the folded up clothes and shoes they had taken from the boys, and Rachel walked a few steps behind him. They made their way through the makeshift camp, Rachel's mind racing with ideas on how to make it a safer, more habitable place. She slowed her pace as they approached the dropship ramp, ready to make her way up and talk to Bellamy, but Atom stood guard at the top, only moving when he spied what Wells was carrying.

"Hey, where'd you get the clothes." He strolled down the ramp, stopping only a few steps away from Wells, obviously feeling very sure of himself with his newfound power.

Wells, however, seemed much more intimidated by him that he had been by Bellamy's other boys the previous night. He shied away slightly but still kept his head high. "We buried the two kids who died during landing."

"Smart." He eyed the clothes in Wells' arms, "You know, I'll take it from here."

Atom made to snatch the clothes from him, but Rachel stepped forward, blocking him and forcing him to step back.

"As much as you might look like it," she made a show of raking her eyes over his stained clothes, "these will go to someone who really needs them."

Wells looked over her shoulder, "just like on the Ark."

Before she had a chance to brush him off, Bellamy came strutting down the ramp.

Shirtless.

With a girl, also without a shirt, following closely behind.

Rachel bristled and looked away, something about the sight making her _very_ uncomfortable.

"You still don't get it, do you, chancellor?" Rachel looked back at him just before he kissed the girl – and made a show of it – and watched her walk away for longer than was necessary. " _This_ is home now. Your father's rules no longer apply." She bit her lip and rolled her eyes as he stepped towards them and grabbed a blue shirt out of Wells' arms.

Wells surged forward to try and grab it back, but Atom pushed him back, and was ready to do more, but was stopped by his leader. "No, no Atom, hold up." Bellamy held the shirt out in front of him, and goaded Wells. "You want it back? Take it."

Several tense moments passed. Then, Wells turned and tossed the remaining clothes on the ground. Delinquents immediately flocked to it, grabbing all they could as fast as they could. Rachel herself ran to grab the thicker of the two jackets, which she planned to give to the little girl she saw the previous night. The girl, whose jacket was so torn it barely held together, had stayed by the dying fire late into the night, trying to soak up all its heat. Nate had noticed her, and brought her to the parachute, where she slept fitfully beside him, his coat draped over her.

Rachel started to turn back to Bellamy to try and convince him that at least _some_ rationing was necessary, but they were all pulled out of their actions by a shriek. Wells and Bellamy, still pulling on the blue shirt, took off towards the source of the noise. Rachel and Atom followed.

They found Murphy holding a struggling girl over the small fire. "Bellamy, check it out." He proudly smirked up at him, and the crowd that was gathering on the hill above. "We want the Ark to think that the ground is killing us, right? The girl he was holding tried to push herself away from him, but he only forced her face closer to the fire. "I figure it'll look better if we suffer a little bit first."

Wells shot towards him, pulling him off the girl before sending him into the dirt. He whirled on Bellamy. "You can stop this."

"Stop this?" Bellamy smirked, not moving from where he stood above him. "I'm just getting started." Suddenly, Murphy's fist collided with the distracted Wells, sending him tumbling and vulnerable to the delinquent continued assaults.

Rachel looked at Bellamy, expecting him to move to stop them, but he only watched, amused, as the two teens went at each other with a cheering crowd behind them. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Harper. The blonde mouthed, "What the hell?" before flicking her eyes to the fight below them.

Nodding, Rachel stepped forward to Bellamy, and whispered, "You know, this looks an awful lot like that book you were telling me about." His jaw clenched, and he turned his dark brown eyes on her to try and get her to back down, but she held his glare. After a moment, he raised his eyebrows and looked away.

* * *

"Alright." Bellamy walked down the slope just as Murphy moved to strike Wells, who was on all fours, trying to catch his breath, with his knife. "Wait!" He stepped in front of Murphy, and pulled Wells up by his jacket before thrusting his own knife at him. He glanced over his shoulder at Rachel, looking on with shock and a little bit of fear. "Now it's a fair fight." He stepped out of the way of the two fighters, positioning himself so that he could watch both them, and Rachel.

He had gotten her on his side, and convinced her to take her wristband off, but now he needed her to help take down Wells and Clarke Griffin. As much as many of the delinquents hated them for privilege and their parents, many more still respected them, and even worse, trusted them. If his power was to be solidified, he had to establish power over them.

Focusing back on the fight, he two boys circled each other, before Murphy surged forward with his weapon. Wells barely dodged the attack, and the next one, then went on the offensive himself. His strike was quickly knocked aside, and his arm slashed with his opponent's knife.

"This is for my father!" Murphy yelled, leaping forward to attack again. But Wells anticipated him this time, blocking his blow and capturing him in a hold, his knife to Murphy's long neck as he screamed at him to drop his weapon.

"Wells!" Clarke and Finn suddenly appeared from out of the woods, the rest of their group following. At her command, Wells dropped his knife and backed away from Murphy. Bellamy moved to keep the angry kid back when he tried to continue fighting, but was distracted by the appearance of his sister, leaning on a short raven-haired boy for stability.

He ran forward, calling her name and took her from the boy, helping lift her over a fallen log. Looking over her, she appeared to be alright, with the notable exception of the bloody cloth wrapped around her leg. When he turned back to confront Clarke, he found that Rachel, Miller, and Harper had come down the hill to do the job themselves.

"Where are all the supplies, Clarke?" Rachel asked, her arms crossed and hips cocked to one side. She was a smidge shorter than the blonde, but her intimidating green stare made up for what she lacked in stature. Clarke just stared back at her, either not wanting to respond, or not able to respond.

It was Finn who eventually answered. "We didn't make it to Mount Weather."

"Well what the hell happened out there?" Bellamy asked, still holding the injured Octavia up. If his sister was hurt because of Clarke, she'd have hell to pay.

"We were attacked," Clarke finally said.

Wells, picking up on her obvious nerves, gently asked her "Attacked? By what?"

"Not 'what.' _Who._ " Everyone gathered turned to Finn, understanding but not processing what he had said, except Rachel, who stared blankly at the boy Octavia had come back with. Some were too stunned to speak, others whispered among themselves. Finn shrugged, "Turns out, when the last man from the Ground died on the Ark, he wasn't the last Grounder."

Clarke turned to Bellamy, then faced the whole crowd "It's true. Everything we thought we knew about the Ground is wrong. There are people here, _survivors_. The good news is, that means we can survive. The radiation won't kill us."

"Bad news is, the grounders will." Finn's bleak remark sent the crowd into a panic. Bellamy looked over them, ready to try and calm them down, but his eyes were drawn to Rachel, still staring at the shy kid standing a few feet away from Clarke, his face pointed down at the ground.

He watched, transfixed, as she slowly walked towards him. "Monty, where's Jasper?" At her whispered words, he looked up, black eyes wet with tears, his lips trembling as he tried and failed to get an answer out.

Clarke answered, turning away from Wells, "He was hit, the grounders took him."

A shiver went down Bellamy's spine as he watched the ice in Rachel's eyes melt into fierce flames. She stalked towards Clarke, and he took a moment to be thankful that he had her on his side.

"What do you mean 'he was hit'?" Every word was laced with a venom that would cause the likes of even Murphy to shy away from the small but fearsome girl. Despite the situation, Bellamy couldn't suppress a smile.

Impressively, however, Clarke didn't shy away, but stepped closer to her. "He was struck in the chest with a spear. We didn't see who threw it."

"No, I don't suppose you did," Rachel hissed. "You just ran, didn't you? And left _my friend_ to die?" The two girls' noses were nearly touching before Wells pushed them apart.

Clarke moved to push him away, grabbing his wrist, but the words in her mouth faltered when she noticed it was bare. "Where's your wristband?"

Wells looked over at Bellamy, "Ask him."

Whirling on him, Clarke redirected her anger at Bellamy, her voice nearly as fearsome as Rachel's, "How many?"

It was Murphy who answered for him, "24 and counting."

"You _idiots_ ," she muttered, turning back to the rest of the delinquents, "Life support on the Ark is _failing_. That's why they brought us down here. They need to know the ground is survivable again, and we need their help against whoever is out there. If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us!"

* * *

Rachel froze at Clarke's words, unable to comprehend what she had heard. The Ark couldn't just _die_ ; it couldn't just fail. It was the most advanced piece of technology ever built, it was made to last a hundred years longer than it would need to. And besides, if the Ark was failing that would mean…

She swallowed, clenching her eyes shut.

That would mean that she and Bellamy had been wrong. That her father _had_ sent her down here for a reason.

And she had taken off her wristband. She had effectively killed herself in her father's eyes.

Distantly, she registered Bellamy's voice, trying convincing the delinquents that they didn't need the people of the Ark to come down and help them. But they did, and she needed her father, and her grandmother.

Bellamy had been wrong, and she had helped him become the de facto leader of the delinquents. She had to stop him from taking off anymore wristbands.

But first, she had to find Jasper, even if it was only his body.


	7. Chapter 6

_Howdy guys! I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry that this is so late. I had breast reduction surgery on the 7th, and it's been a long recovery. But I'm back! And I should be back on schedule now. Hope y'all enjoy the chapter, this is where some of the canon divergence starts (I promise it's not too much!)._

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Still clutching the coat that she got from one of the dead kids she and Wells had buried, Rachel approached Monty, Harper and Nate following behind her. Their friend stood staring blankly towards the dropship where Clarke, Wells, and Finn had just left, not even moving to acknowledge their presence.

"Monty," Harper spoke softly, slowly taking his hand in her own. "Monty, what happened out there?"

He shook his head, finally letting a few tears loose. "We got to Mount Weather, and Jasper went over the river, and then he..." he trailed off, head and tears both falling.

Miller crossed his arms, "What river? Where?"

Harper shushed him, leading Monty over to sit on a low stump. "Take it slow, Monty. You're here now, you're with us, you're safe." He nodded, still crying as he leaned into Harper.

They let him cry for a while, giving him time to get all the emotion out of his system before they started asking more questions. When his tears finally quieted to a sniffle, Miller squatted down in front of the stump, "How'd this happen, Mont?"

"There's a river to the east, a big one. We had to cross it to get to Mount Weather, but when Jasper did…it just came out of nowhere and hit him. We were on the other side of the river, we couldn't get to him, so we just ran. And now I can't…I can't." he broke off, sobbing starting again, but he still tried to get his words out. "He screamed, and I can't get the sound out of my head."

Miller squinted at him, "He screamed, when he was stabbed?" Monty shook his head, "After you guys were running back to camp?" He nodded, still shaking in Harper's arms.

Miller stood, and grabbed Rachel's arm, pulling her aside. After making sure they were far enough away that Monty couldn't hear them, Miller spoke in a whisper, "If he screamed, that long after they started running away…" he paused, taking in a big breath, "Rachel, he might still be alive."

"Are you sure, or is that wishful thinking?" Rachel was barely holding in her own tears, and she knew that it would totally break Monty, maybe Harper too, if they got their hopes up only to find Jasper's body. But Miller seemed so sure, and as he continued to explain his theory, she couldn't help but find herself hoping too. "Alright," she snapped, silencing Miller's theorizing, "God I hope you're right. We can go try to find him. But Monty _cannot_ come."

"Rach, we need someone to show us where the they were."

"He wasn't the only one who was there." She flicked her eyes up the hill, where Bellamy was interrogating his injured sister.

Miller shook his head, "He'll never let her go out again. Did you see how he reacted when he saw she was hurt?"

Rachel only smirked and waggled her eyebrows, "Come on, Nate. You know I can be _very_ persuasive." Turning away from him, she trudged up the hill to where Octavia had just limped away from what looked like a heated conversation with her brother. When she purposefully set her foot down on a twig to snap it, however, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that it took him a moment to look to her.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

She crossed her arms and looked to Octavia, who slowly entered the Dropship, injured leg dragging behind her. "Is she alright?"

He nodded, dragging a hand across his mouth. "I think she'll be okay."

Rachel paused, preparing herself for the many different ways he could react to what she was about to ask. "Is she okay enough to go out again?"

Bellamy's face turned to stone. His jaw set and his eyebrows flattened, and his eyes seemed to light with a rage-filled fire. "Absolutely not." He stepped towards her, deep brown eyes narrowing. "Why the hell would you even ask that?"

She couldn't help but be intimidated by him like this, stepping back to give herself space to think. But she had to steel herself and face him. She _had_ to find Jasper. "Because Monty isn't strong enough to come with us, so she's the only person I trust who can help us find Jasper. I _need_ her."

For a short moment, when the fire in his eyes briefly blinked out, Rachel thought she might have gotten to him. But her just turned away from her and ran a hand through his hair, now falling freely over his face since the gel from the day before has faded. He was silent for a moment, then, "I'm sorry Rachel, but your friend is dead. I'm not going to risk my sister just to bring back a body."

As he started to walk away, Rachel began to shake with rage. She felt adrenaline rush into her veins, sparking idea after idea in her mind. But before she could fully process any of them, the adrenaline acted, and her hand shot out and grabbed Bellamy's shoulder. Hard.

They both froze. After a few deep breaths, Bellamy slowly turned around to face her— though her hand stayed firmly on his shoulder. He was surprised, somewhat pleasantly, to see that she was unfazed by the icy look he was (at least trying to be) sending her way.

Before he could figure out what to say, Rachel spoke, still not removing her hand from him. "Look, you want us to follow you. But _none_ of us will do that if you don't show us that you care about us." She finally took her hand off, and Bellamy shivered slightly as the cold breeze hit where her hand had been. She lowered her voice as she stepped closer, looking up at him with fiery green eyes that somehow made _him_ feel like the small one. "If they don't think you care, they won't trust you, they won't respect you, and they sure as hell won't follow you. If you want them to do all that, you'll let your sister help me find Jasper."

Bellamy again found himself speechless as he gaped at her. Her gaze never wavered. He chuckled breathlessly. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"He's my friend. I'm not going to abandon him." She blinked, finally breaking the stare, her eyebrows jumping up for a moment. "But my other point is true too."

Bellamy couldn't help but laugh again. "Fine. _I'll_ come with you," he whipped his handgun out from behind him, and reveled in the surprised, and a little bit impressed look he got from Rachel. "But Octavia stays here."

"We _need_ her to find him."

"No, you don't. We can use Clarke or the kid with the long hair."

"No."

He sighed. "Rachel, look—."

 _"_ _No._ "

Bellamy groaned, "Why not?"

Rachel crossed her arms and planted her feet, her lips thinning. "Because I do _not_ like Clarke, and I don't trust Finn Collins. _And_ the last time they left with my friends, one of them got _speared_."

He couldn't help but admit that she made a good point, but that didn't mean he'd risk Octavia. "Look, I wanna help you, I really do." She corner of her lip flick up every so slightly, and Bellamy found himself mirroring the gesture before he continued. "But there is no way Octavia is coming with us. I know you don't like Clarke— believe me, I don't either —but she's your only option."

Rachel bit her lip as she glared at him. After a long pause, she finally sighed and uncrossed her arms. "Fine. But bring that gun. And some more guys."

"That I can do." He smiled again, wider than he needed to, a small attempt to cheer her up. When she finally conceded a small grin, his own became genuine. "Lemme find someone to take charge while we're gone…"

"Use Miller, and Harper. Maybe one of Murphy's guys too."

"And why should I do that?"

"Miller knows how to keep people happy and calm, how to keep them in line. On the Ark, Harper worked with her parents calculating how to distribute rations, supplies, assign quarters, basically everything. She can figure out how to turn this place into a camp. And one of Murphy's guys because, well… they're scary."

Bellamy laughed. "See, _that_ is why I picked you. You know all that crap."

She cocked a dark eyebrow, a twinkle in her eyes. "Picked me for what?"

Slightly flushed, Bellamy looked away and again ran a hand through his hair, unused to the feeling of not having it slicked back. "You know, to be my number two. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Rachel blushed a little too, the smooth brown of cheeks tinged with a soft pink. She nodded, and draped the coat she carried over her shoulder. "You go get Clarke and Finn, I have a present to deliver." As she started walking back to her friends, she quipped over her shoulder, "And I'd prefer a different title than 'number two!'"

Bellamy really laughed as he too, turned and walked away.

"There we go, that looks _gorgeous_ on you!" Rachel cooed as she finished putting the coat onto Charlotte, the youngest of the 100 delinquents. Only twelve years old, and small for her age, Rachel and Nate had become instantly protective of her since they saw her desperately soaking up heat from the last embers of the first night's bonfire. Nate had brought her over to the parachute, and she spent the night between them, Nate's coat draped over her as a blanket.

Charlotte looked down at the jacket, and frowned, "It's too big. Look, my arms don't even fit through the sleeves!" She sarcastically flapped the remaining fabric of the sleeves to emphasize her point, making Rachel, Nate, and Harper both laugh.

Squatting down to get eye-level with her, Nate took the ends of the sleeves and rolled them twice, before pushing them up her arms so her hands actually poked out. "There, now you can use your hands, and you look pretty badass." Charlotte took another look at herself. Pleased with what she saw, she smiled at Nate, hugged and thanked him, then ran away to show off her new jacket.

Nate groaned as he stood up, the smiled fading from his face as Charlotte left his sight. When they couldn't see her anymore, he turned to Rachel, and Bellamy, who had just emerged from the dropship. "So when do we leave?"

"You two don't." Bellamy said, gesturing between him and Harper. "I'm leaving you two, and Connor here to look after things while we're gone." While he didn't look entirely pleased that Rachel had pressured him into leading a search party for Jasper he had given in, he seemed set in his decision.

"No. No damn way," Nate growled, "Jasper is _my_ friend, he'd do this for me, so I have to do it for him. And there's no way in hell I'm staying here while Clark and Wells go." Harper said nothing, just stared incredulously at him.

Rachel gently put a hand on his forearm in an attempt to calm him down. She'd already convinced Monty, Monroe, and Sterling to stay, and she had a feeling Harper would be reasonable, but Nate was going to be hard to persuade. "Nate, please. I know how badly you want to come, but it's better for everyone that we have someone… well, competent here."

"She's right," Bellamy, having watched Rachel's negotiation with the hot-headed Monroe, had picked up on her style, "If Clarke is right, and there are Grounders out there, we have to protect the camp. We need a good leader here if we're gonna do that." He looked at Rachel, who nodded in confirmation, and looked towards Harper. "And we need someone to actually _make_ the camp."

The blonde looked between them, an eyebrow cocked, "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Rachel stepped towards her. "Use what you parents taught you on factory station, any of the kids you can find that know how to build things, and any materials you can find. There's even a few tools on the dropship."

"What's important is that we make this place safe." Bellamy looked back over his shoulder at the dropship. "We need something to keep whatever is out _there_ out of _here_. A wall."

Harper barked out a dry laugh. "Right, no problem."

Rachel took her friends hand. "Harp, if anyone can do it, it's you."

Her friend blushed, and hugged her. "Thanks, Rach. I guess I'll do my best."

Before any of them could say anything else, a gravelly voice shouted from behind them. "Are we going or not? Come on!"

Rachel cringed at Finn's voice, and harshly whispered to Bellamy as he followed him back to the Dropship, "You better keep that gun away from me, or I might shoot that asshole before we get to Jasper.

Bellamy laughed.

The group— of which Clarke had typically and annoyingly taking the lead, Rachel noted —barely made it five minutes out of camp before Murphy started complaining.

"Since when are we in the rescuing business, huh?" he hung back behind Rachel and Bellamy, flipping the rusted knife he had fashioned as he walked.

Bellamy didn't look at him when he responded. "We're not." He glanced sympathetically at Rachel. "But we need to convince people we're their best option to follow. Plus, it's a chance to get Clarke's wristband off her."

Rachel had to bite her lip to keep quiet on that subject, but she'd rather do that than walk with Clarke, Finn and Wells, who's tagging along she admittedly, wasn't too upset about.

They walked for a while in silence, the only noise the crunching and squishing of leaves under their feet, and occasional bird call. Rachel always looked around to see if she could spot the source; she so desperately wanted to see a real bird.

Then, after about a half hour, Bellamy stopped.

He just stood there, at the top of the tallest hill in the area, looking out at the seemingly never-ending forest, a content smile on his face. "Bellamy," Rachel whispered, keeping her voice low enough to not reach Clarke and her group, who continued on as they hadn't yet noticed him stop. "What are you doing? We have to get to Jasper. _Fast._ "

Bellamy just looked at her with the same contented look, "Relax, this'll only take a second." He grinned, a sneaky, mischievous thing, as he watched Clarke noticed him far behind them, and start to race back to them.

"Thar she blows," Murphy drawled, stepping back to watch the show.

Clarke stomped up the hill, her eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together so tightly they almost disappeared. "What are you doing? We don't have time to sightsee."

"Ok, I'll make a deal." Bellamy smiled at her, that smarmy persona that made Rachel so uncomfortable falling into place. "Once you take that wristband off, we can go."

Clarke put herself right in from of Bellamy, making Rachel's heart speed up with rage at the sight of her, and the urge to protect her new friend. "The only way the Ark is gonna think I'm dead, "the blonde spat, "is if I'm dead. Got it?"

"Brave princess," Bellamy drawled, his own anger spilling out from behind his façade.

Finn pushed himself between the two, "Hey, why don't you get your own nickname?"

Rachel surged forward, using her shoulder to force herself between the two guys chests, facing Finn "Come on, 'princess?' Like that's so original." She smirked in satisfaction as she heard Murphy

Wells pushed them apart before Finn could respond. "You guys call this a rescue party?" He looked around them, not seeming to notice that they were all avoiding making eye contact. "We should split up. You said we're close," Clarke nodded at him, "So we should split up. Cover more ground. Alright?"

Everyone reluctantly murmured their agreement, but made no move to pick a partner. After a long, awkward moment, Finn turned to Clarke. "Come on, you're with me." Wells made a move to stop him, but he had already pulled Clarke away.

With a sigh, Rachel turned towards Bellamy, only to find him smirking at Wells, "Come on, Jaha, let's go." He strolled over to the boy, and clapped a hand on his shoulder before leading him away.

"Guess that just leaves you and me, _cupcake_ ," Murphy drawled, a smug and satisfied grin plastered on his face.

Rachel sighed and started off into the woods. "Don't talk to me unless you see something."

Murphy jogged to catch up with her, "Aw, come on. Don't you want something to take your mind off of your friend bleeding out?"

She whirled around, fist connecting with Murphy's face before he could even flinch. He doubled over, both hands covering his eyebrow. Rachel stood over him, shaking out her own hurting hand. But she didn't mind it. It only hurt because she had hit bone.

"What the hell?" Murphy shrieked, removing his hands from his face to find blood on them. The skin on his eyebrow had split. _That'll scar_ , Rachel realized, thoroughly enjoying herself.

"If you _ever_ say something like that about one of my friends again, I'll do worse than screw up your face." She stared down at him, surprised he could hold her gaze with the blood flowing down towards his eyes. "Understand me?"

He looked away, his ever-present smugness fading away for the first time Rachel had ever seen. "Yeah, I got it."

"Good." She started walking again before he got up, only knowing he was following when she heard the crunch of his boots on the ground.

He caught up to her, but stayed behind her. After several silent, tense moments, she heard him whisper, "Sorry."

The two walked in silence for a sometime, but while they had found the river the Clarke had told them about, they saw no sign of Jasper. Or of whoever had taken him.

"This is pointless." Murphy complained, idly tossing pebbles into the river while Rachel actually looked for any sign of her friend. "How are we supposed to fine _one guy_ in a forest that's who-knows how big, and with who-knows what possibly hunting us?"

Rachel sighed, "Well for starters, how about a better attitude? If you're this much of a dick and the Grounders get you, I don't think I'll be complaining that much."

Murphy sarcastically laughed, but before he could insult her, Bellamy, Wells, Clarke, and Finn came bursting through the trees. "We found something." Wells said, nearly out of breath.

"Come on," Clarke said, turning to lead the group down the bank of the river. They all fell in behind her, and stayed quiet at first, but after several minutes of nothing, Rachel started to get restless.

"Where are we going?" she demanded.

Finn didn't turn back to look at her, he only pointed in front of them, "It's just up ahead." He led them past a shallow, pool-like area of the river and a small waterfall, and the bank suddenly became rocky, slowing them down slightly as they all took care not to trip

After a few more minutes of nothing, Murphy piped up. "How do you even know this is the right way?"

"We don't." Bellamy answered, "but Spacewalker here thinks he's a tracker." Rachel smiled, and glanced at him, pleasantly surprised to see him smile back.

Wells looked back at both of them. "It's called cutting sign. Fourth year Earth Skills. He's good."

Still leading the group down the bank, Finn called back, "You wanna keep it down or should I pain a target on your backs?" They all quieted. Suddenly, Finn stopped, and fiddled with a hanging twig from a bush, before crouching down to examine something on the rocks.

Rachel heard Bellamy whisper something to Wells, but she was too focused on what Finn and Clarke were looking at to comprehend it.

Blood.

Bright red, still wet blood.

Jasper's blood.

Her thoughts started racing, gruesome thoughts of what they might find, _who_ they might find. Terrible thoughts of having to bring Jasper's body back to her friends. To admit that she hadn't been able to save him.

Then she heard a moan in the distance.

"What the hell was that?" Murphy asked, pulling his knife out of his belt.

Clarke looked to Bellamy, "Now would be a good time to take out that gun." She and Finn started making their way through the brush, Wells and Murphy followed behind. But Rachel was frozen.

Bellamy came up behind her, "You okay?"

Rachel swallowed, trying to hold back tears. "What…what are we gonna find?"

He stepped in front of her, drawing her eyes up to face him. "There's only one way to find out." She felt something cold on her hand, and looked down to see that he had removed her knife from her beltloop, and was pressing it into her palm.

She closed her fingers around the knife, and nodded at Bellamy. He gave her a quick smile, and led her through the bushes, pushing the branches out of the way for her. After a few yards, they caught up with the rest of the group, all of them frozen where they stood.

Rachel stepped up next to Clarke so she could see over the boys, and she nearly gagged at what she saw.

"Oh my God, Jasper." She cried, tears starting to flow full-force.

In the middle of the meadow, Jasper was tied to a huge, sickly tree. His shirt was gone, and his chest was dirty and covered in blood. His eyes were closed as if her were asleep, but his heartbreaking moans let her know he still felt the pain.

"Rachel, wait! Be careful" Wells tried to hold her back, but she ran forward, unfazed by his words. What did trip her up, however, was that Clarke ran with her. She paused to stare, and the blonde ran in front of her.

But as soon as she did, she fell _into_ the ground. On instinct, Rachel fell to her knees and grabbed her arm, stopping her from falling onto the spikes that covered the floor of the boobytrap. Her green eyes locked with Clarke's blue, and the two girls stared at each other for a long moment.

Then the guys reached them, Bellamy first. He fell on his knees beside her.

"Bellamy, help me, I can't get her up." She pleaded, feeling her strength begin to falter.

He looked between them, his expression unreadable. Then, his gaze fell on Clarke's wristband, and Rachel realized what he was thinking.

She hated Clarke, but not _that_ much.

"Bellamy!" she shouted, and his eyes snapped back to her. She widened her eyes, hoping to get her message across without having to say anything in front of Clarke. To her relief, he nodded, just as Finn, Wells, and Murphy ran up too, and soon all five of them had pulled Clarke out of the hole.

They all stood there for a moment, catching their breath. Clarke looked over at Rachel, and simply said, "Thanks."

Rachel nodded back at the other girl, before turning her attention back to Jasper. "We have to get him down from there."

Finn stepped forward, "I'll climb up and cut the vines. You," he jerked his chin at Murphy, "come with me."

As they carefully approached the tree, Rachel found herself near tears again as she looked at him. But her thoughts were interrupted by Clarke.

"There's a poultice on his wound." She pointed towards a spot on his chest that was patched with something gray.

"Medicine?" Rachel asked, squinting to try and see it better, "Why would they do that?"

Wells turned towards the girls, "They're using him as live bait."

"And whatever they're trying to catch," Bellamy added, "likes its dinner breathing."

Finn turned away from the tree and towards the group, "maybe what they're trying to catch is us."

"Oh my God," Rachel said again, covering her face with her hands and wiping away her tears.

"Get him down quick." Clarke commanded. Finn nodded, and swiftly scaled the tree until he was level with Jasper. He had Murphy toss up his knife, and even though he was rescuing her friend, Rachel found herself slightly disappointed when he didn't cut himself catching it.

He had only cut his way through a few of the ropes when they heard the growl.

Murphy nearly lost his footing on the tree, "What the hell was that?"

"Grounders?" Bellamy whirled around, gun drawn, trying to find whatever had made the noise.

"Bellamy." Rachel whispered, drawing his attention.

She was staring directly at a huge, black cat across the clearing. It moved smoothly, and thankfully slowly towards her for a moment, before pouncing forward full speed.

She ran towards the tree, narrowly avoiding the put, just as Wells ran away from the tree. In his arms, he held a huge, fallen branch, at least a foot around. He planted himself in front of her and Clarke, and when the cat was only a few feet away, he swung with all his might.

The cat whirled back, slightly off balance from the strike, but now so much angrier. Rachel closed her eyes, not wanting to see what came next. She heard it howl and start towards them again, but it's growl was interrupted two shots rang out, then everything fell silent.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Bellamy holding his gun in front of him, the end smoking. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were wide. Cautiously, she approached him and followed his gaze. The cat lay dead only a few feet in front of him. One bullet wound was in his head, and the other had torn off his paw.

Amazed, he laughed at the sight. "Pretty good shot." She complimented Bellamy, not taking her eyes off of the creature.

She heard him laugh too as he came up next to her, "only 'pretty good?'"

"Well," she mused, "you were dishonorable discharged before you could complete firearms training. So I wasn't exactly expecting a bulls-eye."

He gave her a mock-insulted look. "Okay, next time _you_ shoot the terrifying monster."

"With pleasure."

They laughed for a minute, then remembered why they were there. Turning back to the tree, Rachel saw Finn cut through the last of the ropes holding Jasper to the tree, and gently lower him into Wells and Murphy's arms.

"He's alive, Rachel." Bellamy gently reminded her, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

"I know," she said, "But how are we gonna keep him that way?"


	8. Chapter 7

_Hey guys! Sorry this is so late, for some reason this was a REALLY hard chapter to write. So, to thank you guys for waiting so long, I'm gonna try and get the next one posted by Monday. So hope you enjoy this one, I finally got it exactly how I want it, and be sure to leave a review to tell me what you think!_

 _xoxo, Deara_

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Jasper slept for three days straight. Rachel did not; from the moment they carried their unconscious friend back into camp, she didn't even take a break to sit down. She occupied herself with helping Harper, Nate, and Bellamy plan the wall, assisting Sterling in creating and rationing tent space from the Dropship's parachute, and, when the more her more intellectually-inclined friends were busy or sleeping, physically helping Murphy and the rest of the crew build the wall, clear the brush around the camp, and carve markers into the trees on the path to fresh water. She did anything and everything she could to keep her mind off the fact that one of her best friends was likely dying on the top floor of the Dropship.

But no matter how hard she tried, her mind wandered frequently. She thought of him lying there on the cold metal floor, only the pelt of the cat Bellamy had killed keeping his wound covered. She thought of Monty, who had taken to spending his time in that room with Jasper, helping Clarke get food and water into him, waiting to be by his side the moment he woke up. She thought of Miller, who had shed tears for the first-time Rachel ever seen when he saw Jasper carried into camp by Bellamy. She thought of Clarke, who had been spending her days trying to figure out how to heal him, the first thing she had ever done that Rachel was grateful for.

"Rachel." Bellamy's voice cut into her thoughts, bringing her back to real life. She was in his tent—the first, and largest, that Sterling had put up. Harper, Miller, Sterling, Murphy, and Mbege all stood around her, staring at her expectantly.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to focus her thoughts. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

Bellamy licked his lips, whether it was a gesture of pity or annoyance, she couldn't tell. "Sterling thinks he can only get 25 tents out of the parachutes."

"Yeah," Sterling smiled apologetically at her, "with the three chutes that deployed, and the one big safety that didn't, that's all I can get. But I think they'll be big enough for maybe three each comfortably, more… not comfortably."

"Do you think you can work out who can live with who without killing each other?" Bellamy asked.

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Yeah, but that still leaves a quarter of us without a tent, assuming we want to sleep comfortably."

Everyone fell silent for a moment, until Nate spoke up. "Not necessarily. We'll have to have some people, say ten or so, up at night to keep watch. That means some tents could have more than three _in_ them, but no more than that _actually_ in them at one time."

"And for whoever's left over after that," Rachel began, the gears in her mind finally, slowly starting to turn again, "We'll have plenty of extra room on the second floor of the Dropship. We should probably put the younger kids there."

"Younger kids?" Mbege asked, the first thing he had said during the meeting. "Like who?"

"Like Charlotte," Nate answered. While he had warmed up to Miller, and a few of his old gang, there was still significant tension between him and Mbege, and he addressed him much more coldly than he did the others. "She and about ten others are barely even teenagers."

"Alright." Bellamy spoke before Mbege could fire back, silencing the whole room. "This all sounds good to me. Go back to what you were doing." Everyone nodded, and started shuffling out of the tent. As Rachel lifted the flap to leave, Bellamy's hand on her arm stopped her.

She turned slightly to face him, "What?"

He paused for a second, letting his hand fall from her and locked his eyes with hers. "Jasper's gonna be okay."

"You don't know that." She responded a little too quickly. She shook her head, and turned away from him. But he stopped her from leaving again, his grip tight on her wrist.

"You need to slow down, Rachel. You'll run yourself down working like this." He pulled her wrist towards him, trying to get her to face him again. "You can't do this to yourself. We need you."

Rachel nodded tightly, and placed her hand on his, pulling it off her wrist. She kept her eyes on the trampled down dirt below her. "I just…it _kills_ me. He's dying in there, and there's nothing I can do to help him." She wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye before looking back up at him, "What do I do, Bellamy?"

Bellamy was taken aback by her sudden confession, by the fact that she had so quickly trusted him enough to not only confess to him, but to ask him for his help. He felt the same twinge in his chest that had caused him to hesitate asking her to take off her wristband.

He had to look away from her, from her green eyes that threatened to pull him…much closer than he wanted to be. But he felt that gaze follow him across his tent, her question burning, waiting for an answer. An answer he didn't have.

"I think…" he began, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he turned back to face her. "I think you just have to try your hardest for the people you know you _can_ save. Harper. Miller. Monty. _Everyone_ out there," he gestured to the door of the tent, to the noise and chattering that came from the nearly 100 people who were looking to them for guidance. "They're all your people, they all need you. _I_ need you."

Rachel smiled a bit at that, and Bellamy suddenly felt himself start to stumble over his words. He paused, regaining his composure before continuing. "I know Jasper is one of your best friends. I know you love him. And I know how hard it is to be helpless to save someone you love." His voice started to crack as the memories of his mother and Octavia being dragged away from him began to resurface. "But you can't let that stop you from living your life, from saving everyone else."

The air in the tent felt warm and heavy as Bellamy waited for her to respond. He hoped and prayed that he had said the right thing. He had been honest. He _did_ need her. Unlike her, he hadn't been raised to be a leader. This was all thrust on him by Shumway, but he had to do it. For Octavia. For himself. For all the new friends he had made since getting on the dropship.

"Thank you." Rachel's voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her from the other side of the tent. She was smiling at him; though her sadness and worrying still peered through, it was still a smile. "I'll go figure out the tents. Then I promise I'll try to get some sleep. Happy?"

He returned her smile. "Very happy."

* * *

Rachel didn't get to sleep for long.

Jasper finally woke up that evening, but was far from coherent. At the first scream, Rachel, Nate, and Harper all bolted awake and ran out of their tent and into the Dropship.

When they all reached the top floor, they found Clarke, Wells, and Monty hovering over him, trying to get him to respond to them. But he just laid there, in the same spot he'd been in for days, his face contorted with pain. They all watched for several minutes that felt like hours, but he didn't respond; they only managed to calm him down enough to quiet his screams to pained moans.

Breaking away from holding the sobbing Harper, Rachel approached Clarke. "Can't you do anything?"

"I don't know…" Clarke said, slumping back onto her knees next to Jasper. She covered her face with her hands. Rachel's frustration was almost ready to boil over into threats, but Clarke dropped her hands and sat back up before she could say anything.

"What?" Rachel demanded, following Clarke's gaze to Jasper's chest, still covered by the pelt from the cat.

Clarke ignored her, pulling the pelt back and exposing Jasper's bare chest. She placed a hand on the dried lump of shredded plants that covered his wound. Wells got down on the floor beside them, staring at Clarke. "You have an idea, don't you?" he asked.

"It's been days since he was stabbed, should be showing signs of a serious infection by now." Clarke whispered, gently lifting the plants out of the wound. "Oh my god…" she stared at the gaping hole in Jasper's chest, "the Grounder's cauterized the wound."

Nate, who had taken over comforting Harper, looked to Clarke, "What does that mean?"

"It means they saved his life."

He scoffed, "They're the ones who speared him in the chest."

As Clarke reached for a wet rag to clean the blood and leftover plant debris from the wound, Finn climbed up the ladder. "They saved his life so they could string him up for live bait." He leaned up against the wall, ignoring the harsh looks he was receiving from half the room. "Garden of Eden this ain't."

Everyone ignored him. Clarke handed the rag to Rachel before peeing into the gash. "This looks like it might be infected. He could be septic."

"I thought you said he wasn't showing signs of infection." Rachel felt her heart rate speed up as she leaned forward to try and see what Clarke had seen.

"He's not. The infection must just be starting." she turned to look at the dried-up plants discarded to her side. "The poultice…whatever it is, it must have had antibiotic properties."

Wells looked between the two girls, "So what should we do?"

"How the hell should I know?" Clark snapped, startling everyone.

Wells bit his lip and looked down, "I'm just trying to help."

An awkward silence settled in the room. Harper's sobs had quieted, and she moved across the Dropship to Monty, where the two quietly whispered about his work on the wristbands. Miller stepped towards Jasper, and settled onto his knees besides Wells across from the girls. After a while, Clarke grabbed her wet rag out of Rachel's hands, and began furiously wiping the dried blood away from Jasper's chest.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked as she gratefully watched the blood disappear from Jasper's pale skin.

"I'm going to cut away the infected flesh," Clarke explained, tossing the rag towards the discarded plants before turning to the other girl, "I need your knife."

Rachel shook her head, "You'll hurt him." Jasper had been through enough already; she wasn't going to let this wannabe surgeon make his condition any worse.

Clarke's eyes and mouth narrowed in anger, "He'll be hurt more if the infection spreads." when Rachel still didn't respond, she pushed. "Look, if I don't do this, he'll die from the infection. If I do– he might at least have a chance."

"Do it." Nate said, the determination and sliver of hope in his wet eyes convincing his friend to reluctantly hand over her weapon to their mutual enemy.

Clarke weighed the knife in her hand for a second before and adjusting her grip and placing a hand on Jasper's shoulder. "Alright Wells, you wanna help? Hold him down."

Nate followed the command as well, both boys moving to either side of Jasper and holding down his torso. Without prompt, Rachel moved behind his head, cradling it in her lap as she whispered reassurances to him, just in case he could hear her.

Everyone in the room held their breath as Clarke made the first cut, causing Jasper to scream louder and harsher than he had when he first woke up. The screams continued as Clarke did, fortunately quieting a little ad he grew more tired.

Rachel stroked his hair and whispered to him words that her grandmother had told her when she had been sick on the Ark.

" _You're going to be fine,_ querida _, I promise." Vera said soothingly as Rachel cried._

 _The little girl looked miserable, her eyes were red and puffy from crying, she had pulled chunks of curly hair out of her braid, and her usually smooth dark skin was paler than normal, and had taken on a yellow hue._

 _She leaned into her grandmother's chest, her tears forming a wet patch on her pink dress. "I'm_ not _going to be fine, nana!" she yelled, "I'm going to die!"_

 _Vera couldn't help but laugh at that– Rachel only had a moderate cold. But she felt bad when her granddaughter started crying harder at her reaction. "Oh my poor little one, I'm sorry." She pulled the girl off her so she could face her. "But listen to me: you are one of the strongest little girls I have ever met. You are smart enough and brave enough to face anything, and if anyone can get through this, it's you."_

"You are one of the strongest people I've ever met, Jasper." Rachel whispered, tears leaking out of her closed eyes as she pressed her nose to his forehead, "You are smart enough and brave enough to face anything, and if anyone can get through this, I _know_ it's you."

She repeated this over and over as Clarke continued to cut away at the wound. Both were interrupted as the hatch flew open and Octavia came scrambling up, Bellamy and Murphy close behind. "Stop it!" Octavia screamed, "You're killing him!"

Finn moved to stop her from pulling Clarke away, "She's saving his life."

Murphy scoffed, "She _can't._ "

Rachel snapped her head up and scowled at him, then met eyes with Bellamy. After a moment, he broke the stare, looking down at Jasper's chest, and she could tell that he agreed with his lackey. He looked back at her briefly, as if in apology, then to Clarke. "Can you?"

"She can at least give him a chance," Rachel answered, her voice surprisingly strong and steady, considering the situation.

"Kid's a goner." Murphy muttered from behind Bellamy, "If you can't see that, you're crazy."

Clarke made one final cut, then sat back. "We didn't carry him through miles of woods just to let him die. This isn't the Ark. Down here, every life matters." She turned to Rachel, desperation painted all over her face. "I've spent my whole life watching my mother heal people–even you. If I say there's hope, there's hope." Rachel let herself smile a little, remembering the day the two of them had watched their parents argue viciously over how to best treat her cold. She nodded to Clarke, firmly taking her side.

Bellamy shook his head, staring at the bleeding wound, "If you say there's a chance, I'll believe you." Everyone relaxed for a moment. "But this isn't about hope. It's about guts. You may not have the guts to make the hard calls, to make the right choices, but I do. If he doesn't get better soon, I'll put him out of his misery myself. Octavia, let's go."

"What?" Rachel breathed in disbelief, so in shock that she couldn't stand to face him. She barely registered Octavia refusing to leave with her brother and Murphy, and those remaining in the room muttering about Bellamy.

She was broken from her trance by Nate placing his hand on her shoulder as he sat next to her.

He sighed, "I think we may have picked the wrong side."

"Yeah, I guess so." Rachel slumped against him, burying her face in his shoulder as she finally let her tears escape.

* * *

Bellamy shivered as the cold night air his bare chest as he stepped out of his tent, still breathing heavily from what he had just finished doing with the two girls still inside. He ran his hands through his hair, still unused to the way it felt loose.

The camp was still filled with the sounds of Jasper's moans, and the grumblings of annoyance from everyone else. He felt bad about what he had declared he would do, but deep down, he knew it was the right thing. If Clarke couldn't do what she claimed she could, he couldn't let Jasper die slowly, in that much pain. Better to kill him quickly than let him suffer.

As he thought, Bellamy let his eyes roam around the camp. Sterling and his team of workers had gotten about half the tents up so far, and Harper's rest had made good progress on the wall.

It was when he was scanning the top of the wall that he saw her.

Rachel, sitting on top of one of the lookout posts, arms in her lap as she gazed up at the full moon. The light of the it illuminated her, making her dark, rich skin glow with a deep shade of blue. In the breeze, her mass of curls floated around her head like a halo, and the tattered edges of her coat floated behind her. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, running his gaze over her silhouette, over her long lashes, her short nose, and full lips, slightly parted as she breathed in the fresh air of Earth.

Even though he knew she was hurting deeply, he couldn't help but notice how at peace she looked. How well Earth, and especially the moon, seemed to suit her. Suddenly, he remembered some of the stories his mother had read to him about the Greek gods. More specifically, he remembered the stories of Artemis, beautiful goddess of the forest and moon.

Outlined by moonlight, with the lush forest behind her, Rachel looked like she could be the goddess herself.

"Bellamy, what's taking so long?" Katy's voice cut into his thoughts, making him realize what he had been doing, and for how long he'd been doing it.

Realizing _that_ made him realize something else. Reeling, he looked back up at Rachel, and knew by the way his chest tightened when he saw her, that he was well and truly screwed.


	9. Chapter 8

Howdy guys! SO SO SO SO SO SO SO sorry this is so late, the last month has been absolutely crazy, and this chapter ended up causing me more trouble than I thought is would. But I'm out of school, and summer is in full swing, so hopefully I'll be getting back on track.

This one's juicy, I hope y'all enjoy it. :)

* * *

"Rach, wake up." Nate gently shook her shoulder to rouse her. After coming back on the Dropship, she had quickly fallen asleep while watching over Jasper, so tired that his constant moans didn't even faze her.

She blinked several times, pushing his hand away, "I'm up." She looked around the room, to Jasper, who still lay unresponsive in the center of the room, and to Monty, who still sat next to him, tinkering with Octavia's wristband. Everyone else was gone. "What's happening?"

"Wells thinks he knows what kind of plant the Grounders used to make that poultice thing. Some kind of seaweed…I don't know." He stood, then helped Rachel up too. "I'm going with him, Clarke, and Finn to try and find it."

Eyes wide in surprise, Rachel stared at him, "Why?"

He shrugged, digging his hands into his pockets. "Look, you know I don't like her, but Jasper _needs_ Clarke. And if they run into anything out there, they'll need someone to take care of it. You really think Wells or Finn could take on a Grounder?"

"Could you?" While she understood where he was coming from, Rachel was still worried about what he was setting out to do. "They hit Jasper with a spear from 100 yards away. All you have is a knife."

"They have a better chance with me than without me." Nate held her stare, his jaw set. She could tell he was determined to do this, and nothing she could say would talk him out of it, but he wanted her on his side.

She nodded, "Fine. But don't do anything especially reckless or stupid." He smiled, and gave her a quick hug and ruffled her curls before leaving. When he had climbed down the ladder and closed the hatch, she wrapped her coat tighter around her and sat down next to Monty. "Any progress?"

He paused, and turned to face her, brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were on team 'don't contact the Ark' with Bellamy."

Rachel felt a shard of anger start to spread in her chest, not towards Monty, but Bellamy. "I don't think I can be on any 'team' that wants to kill my friend."

Monty nodded grimly, and silence fell over them. The only sounds were Jasper's moans and the quiet scraping of tree branches against the roof of the Dropship.

"Do you really think he'll kill Jasper?" Monty's voice was quiet, and thick with the effort it took not to cry again. Rachel searched, but couldn't find an answer. For all she had thought she believed in Bellamy, she truly didn't know whether or not he'd actually deliver on his promise. So instead of responding to him, Rachel comforted Monty in the only way she could think of. She scooted closer to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and hugged him to her.

After a long moment, he finally hugged her back.

* * *

Bellamy spotted her coming out of the Dropship as he was coming back from teaching some of his guys how to throw a knife, something he had learned from some of the older guards while he was a cadet. He knew she had seen him too, but she was pointedly avoiding meeting his gaze. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to go talk to her. But he was sure that after what he had said he'd do to Jasper, she definitely wouldn't want to talk to him.

But what he had realized last night– that feeling he was finally able to put a name on tugged on something within him and pulled him towards her. Without even realizing it, his feet started carrying himself closer and closer to her.

When he was too near for her to ignore, Rachel at last turned her cold green eyes, like chips of ice, on him. His breath caught, not because of the harshness of her stare, but because of the striking beauty of it. He had to shake his head to refocus himself.

"What do you want?" Rachel crossed her arms and looked up at him. She was clever in how she positioned herself. To anyone looking on, her stance made her look like a willing follower. But this close, where he could clearly see her expression in her eyes, and the hard set of her mouth, it was clear to Bellamy that she was challenging him.

He'd lost her.

He swallowed, and lowered his voice. "How's Jasper doing?"

As soon as the words came out he knew they were a mistake. And to make things worse, Jasper chose that exact moment to let out a piercing scream. Rachel's full lips went completely taut, and she slowly tilted her head to one side. A predator sizing up her prey. Bellamy tried not to be distracted by the way her chestnut curls swayed at the movement.

"How do you think he's doing?" she spat, anger flaming in her eyes.

Bellamy bit his lip, and racked his brain to think of a way to respond that wouldn't hurt her, or cause her to hurt him, as he had no doubt she would, and could do. Finally, he glanced down at her through the hair that now nearly fell in his eyes, and asked what he was really thinking "How are _you_ doing?"

He had said the right thing. After a moment, her tight expression softened, and the hard ice in her eyes melted, but to his horror, the melted into tears. She shook her head, and tried to blink the tears away, frustrated that he had so easily gotten to her. "Like I said yesterday, one of my best friends is _dying_ up there," her voice cracked, and Bellamy had to fight the urge to somehow comfort her with touch, "and all I can do is wait for Clarke to get back and pray that Wells found the right thing, and hope that the guy I put my trust in doesn't murder him." Bellamy flinched a little at that. He needed to find a way to explain himself, but she kept talking. "I feel…I feel helpless." She dropped her arms, and her hands formed tight fists.

Those fists sparked an idea in Bellamy. It wouldn't offer him a chance to ease his own guilt by what happened last night, but it would help _her_ get her mind off it. He looked towards the gates, to where his guys were waiting for him. He nodded, a signal that he'd be joining them in a moment, and turned back to Rachel. "Where'd you put the knife I gave you?"

She studied him for a moment, then cautiously pulled the small scrap of metal from her coat pocket. "Why do I need it?"

He smiled, a large, open smile that he prayed she would return. "Because you need to kill something right now, so we're going hunting."

Bellamy honestly thought that the smile she gave him then was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

* * *

The hunting party was larger than Rachel would have liked, more than three or four made too much noise, but Bellamy had hastily explained that he was focusing more on teaching the guys to hunt rather than actually being efficient. Because of this, Rachel didn't feel obligated to focus too hard on the task at hand. Instead, she focused on trying to make a mental map of the land surrounding their camp.

They were fortunate, even if the Dropship had missed its target, that they had landed in a relatively safe spot. Harper's design for the wall enclosed the camp around the crown of the small hill they had landed on, and deep dried up streambeds provided the only easy way in or out. If the Grounders wanted to get to them, they'd have a hard time doing it.

Rachel also spent a significant amount of her time wondering why she kept spotting Bellamy glancing back at her. He always looked away as soon as she met his gaze, but a few minutes later, she caught him doing it again. But when they finally found tracks to follow, she forgot all about his strange behavior.

They turned off the path they had been on, the one Rachel had helped mark a few days before to guide people to the river. The underbrush was thicker here, and it took almost all of Rachel's focus to keep her movements silent. To their credit, the other delinquents were quieter than she expected them to be, though they still made more noise than her.

When they at last spotted the boar, they all crouched down to let Bellamy take aim, and show them how to make the kill. From his place behind a large bush, he drew his hatchet from his belt, and weighed it in his hands. As he lined up his shot, he flicked his eyes over to Rachel, who had somehow found herself kneeling on the ground right next to him. He leaned towards her, and with a voice so low she could hardly hear it, whispered to her with a smile, "Watch this and tell me again that I'm just a 'pretty good shot."

Rachel had to stifle her giggle, but nodded, and looked expectantly at the boar just ahead of them. He smirked, and drew back his arm.

Something snapped behind them.

Bellamy stood immediately, pivoting and letting his weapon fly.

It sunk into a tree trunk mere inches from a young girl's head.

"Charlotte!" Rachel shot forward and yanked her away from the tree as if it the axe buried there could still hurt her. She ran her hand over the girl's head to make sure that she hadn't been struck. She was so wrapped up in her examination that she didn't notice Bellamy and Atom approach them as the others ran off after the boar.

Bellamy voice was tight as he spoke, "Who the hell is she? I almost _killed_ her." his voice wavered, and he looked away to yank his axe out of the tree. Rachel turned to face him as he straightened, and saw that his eyes were wide, out of shock at what he had almost done, and overwhelming relief that his aim had been off.

Charlotte was on the verge of tears, and stepped back to press herself into Rachel. She placed her hands on the girl's shoulders, giving them a squeeze of reassurance. Rachel took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down. "This is Charlotte, I've told you about her."

Bellamy nodded, not looking at her, but at the child in front of her, He took in every inch of her before finally bringing his gaze upwards again as Atom stepped forward. "Why is she here? She should be back at camp."

This hadn't even occurred to Rachel, she was too occupied with her relief that the child she and Nate had come to care about so much in the past week was alright. She stepped around the girl, and bent her knees to come face to face with her, "You followed us?" Charlotte nodded, and Rachel continued, "why? You know it's dangerous out here."

"You and Miller left, and with that guy who's dying…his moans— I just couldn't listen to it anymore." Charlotte finally recovered enough of her strength to face the two men in front of her as she spoke.

Bellamy looked to Rachel, his expression seeming to ask what they should do, but before she could answer, Atom spoke. "Still, there are Grounders out here. It's too dangerous for a little girl."

Charlotte's face scrunched up. "I'm _not_ little." Rachel couldn't help but smile at the ferocity in her eyes as she sized up Atom. When she glanced at him again, she found Bellamy smiling too.

"Okay then," he said, reaching down to grab his own knife and hand it to the pre-teen, "but you can't hunt without a weapon." Charlotte's eyes grew wide as she took in the knife, then turned to Rachel as if to ask for permission. When she got a nod, she eagerly grabbed the weapon and held it in her hand as if it were a treasure.

Bellamy looked proudly down at her, "Ever killed something before?" Charlotte shook her head a little, and Bellamy shrugged "Well who knows? Maybe you're good at it." He flicked his eyes, full of glee, at Rachel before turning and stalking off to where the rest of the party had disappeared.

Rachel found herself smiling as she watched him. She took a moment to let the expression fade, then nudged Charlotte further into the woods. "Come on, we can't let the boys have all the fun."

* * *

After Charlotte joined the hunting party, Rachel mood significantly improved, so much so that she turned the hunting party into a competition between her and Bellamy, his initial task of teaching the delinquents quickly forgotten. Each took turns taking the first shot at whatever prey they found, the other waiting impatiently behind to take the second, should the first miss. Neither of them ever got to take the back-up shot.

Both spent the time in between prey doting on Charlotte. Bellamy quickly recovered from nearly having killed her, and instantly took the girl. He bragged to her about his achievements and commendations from his days as a cadet (after which Rachel was always quick to cut in with a not-so friendly reminder of his dishonorable discharge), and delighted in showing her all the tricks he could do with his various weapons.

It was during a period of this relaxation, once the sun was setting and the group was lazily making its way back towards the camp that the fog hit. Diggs, lagging behind the group in back was the first to notice it rolling towards them through the trees.

"Hey guys! Come check this out." he shouted, pointing at the incoming cloud of sickly yellow gas.

Rachel turned, but didn't approach, as she was the only one to notice that all the wildlife had disappeared. When Charlotte moved to get a closer look, she was held back by Rachel's firm hand, and kept from protesting by her shout, "What is it?"

"I don't know man." Diggs took another step towards the fog, only a few yards away from him now, "But it's kinda cool, don't ya think?"

The whole party watched as he reached out a hand to touch the fog, the swirling yellow clouds quickly enveloping his whole arm.

Then he screamed.

"It _burns_!" He yelped, pulling his hand back and tripping over himself trying to get free from the cloud. Bellamy shot forward, helping him stand and then dragging him away. When they reached the party, which had begun to slowly retreat away from the impending cloud, they noticed his hand.

It was completely red, covered in huge blisters, some of which had already burst and leaked blood and pus onto his hand. Bellamy looked up from the gruesome sight, and he met Rachel's terrified gaze.

"Run," he whispered.

They did. The whole hunting party took off sprinting away from the ever-approaching fog. Bellamy handed Diggs off to Mbege, and ran in front of Rachel and Charlotte, motioning for them to follow.

"Come on! There are caves this way!" he shouted as he leapt down a small ledge, turning around to grab Charlotte from Rachel to carry her down the ledge. The hunting party splintered and dashed into several of the caves that dotted the hillside. Bellamy slowed to usher Charlotte into the one at the hill's base, Rachel close behind him. He stopped at the cave mouth once Charlotte was inside, grabbing Rachel's shoulder as she too ran in. "Did everyone get safe?" he asked, already coughing from the fog.

"I don't know, I couldn't see all that far." She too started coughing, and pulled up the oversized lapel of her jacket to her mouth to filter the air.

Bellamy copied her idea, and moved to run out of the cave. Rachel's arm shot out to grab him before she could think. "Don't."

"I have to make sure they're safe."

"I was in the back. If I got here, they're safe too." She pulled him deeper inside the cave as she spoke. "Come on, we need to get as deep as we can." It took him a moment, but he finally followed her into the cave.

Neither of them had noticed Atom fall.

* * *

Rachel shivered inside her coat as she and Bellamy made their way further inside of it. They found Charlotte about twenty yards in, sitting on a small alcove and frowning.

"There's a hole in the roof down there, I'm worried the fog will get in." she said.

Bellamy and Rachel shared a look, and Bellamy continued further into the cave to check it out. After he left, Rachel sat next to Charlotte and draped her arm over her. She meant to say something to comfort the girl, but she found no words. Instead, she went over the memory of Diggs' hand in her mind, trying to figure out how _fog_ could do that to a person.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Bellamy returned. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair as if trying to slick it back. A picture of what he had looked like on the dropship popped into Rachel's mind. Even just letting his hair down made him look younger, more approachable, more handsome. Rachel blinked that last thought away as he began to speak.

"There is a hole, and maybe another entrance to the cave, but there are vines covering it. Not much of…whatever that was is getting in, but we should stay here just in case." His gaze slid away from them; Rachel followed it, and realized he was looking at the spot in the alcove next to her. It was more than big enough for him to fit, but instead he settled against the wall opposite the two girls. The fact that he chose not to sit next to her bothered Rachel, but she couldn't pinpoint why. She decided to ignore the problem, it was definitely the least of their worries right now.

She settled more comfortably onto her stone seat, and faced Bellamy. "What _was_ that? I don't remember hearing about anything like that in Earth Skills."

Bellamy continued running his hands through his hair, something about the movement made Rachel think that he was nervous, but she decided that it was due to the fog incident. He shrugged, "I have no clue. The burn on Diggs' hands…I think I've seen something like that before…" he trailed off, staring intently at the floor of the cave.

After several moments of his silence, it was Charlotte that asked what both girls were thinking. "Where?"

He shook his head and looked away, towards the back of the cave, casting his face in shadow. "After I…left the guard, I was reassigned to sanitation. I was a janitor." The last sentence was ground out, as if it pained him to say it. He still faced away from the others, refusing to make eye contact. _Shame_ , Rachel realized. He was ashamed of how he "left" the guard, and what happened to him after. Suddenly her teasing earlier about his discharge weighed on her, and she felt a profound sense of guilt.

Bellamy continued, "One day, a few months into the job, I was sent down to Factory Station. There had been a spill of some chemical, I was supposed to clean it up. They sent me with special equipment. Heavy duty gloves, a special waste bin, instructions to not let whatever it was touch my skin. Whatever spilled, it was serious stuff.

"On my way there, I passed a med crew pushing a guy on a gurney away from Factory. They had cut his shirt off, and…" He stumbled, rubbing his hands together anxiously, the memory was obviously bothering him. Rachel felt a twinge in her chest, and had the sudden urge to go comfort him too.

He continued, "Half of his chest and arm was covered in the same type of— burn or rash, or, hell I don't know —that was on Diggs' hand. I cleaned it up, but all I ever learned about what spilled was that it was some type of acid. Maybe, somehow, that fog is acid too."

Rachel nodded, it made sense, kind of. She looked up from her lap, and saw that Bellamy was finally looking at her again. The desperate look on his face, as if he was searching for approval, pushed her to give it to him. "I guess it makes sense. If there can be acid rain, why not acid fog?" She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he barely returned it.

The three settled into an uncomfortable silence. The only noise in the cave was the sound of Bellamy occasionally clicking his knife on the floor of the cave as he flipped in his hand. Charlotte simply rested her head on Rachel's shoulder. What seemed like hours of silence passed, and Rachel felt like she _should_ speak, should say _something_ , but she didn't know what.

So she let her mind wander back to what she had been distracting herself from all day: Jasper. She wondered if Nate and Clarke had found whatever it was Wells was looking for. She wondered if they had made it back to camp safely. She wondered if their plan would work. She wondered if Jasper had made it through the day. With no noise to distract her, the thoughts clanged around in her head as if someone were shouting them directly into her ears.

At last, Charlotte broke the deafening quiet. "I'm tired."

Rachel perked up, and stood from where she sat, just short enough to do so without bumping her head on the top of the little nook. "You can sleep here; we'll watch over you." Rachel made her promise without even looking at Bellamy, she just had the instinct that he would look after Charlotte with her. Even after his threat to Jasper the previous night, she couldn't deny that there was still some part of her, some basic, instinctual part, that trusted him implicitly.

She jumped a little when Bellamy was suddenly behind her, holding his stolen guard's jacket in a ball in one hand. "Here," he said, dropping the fabric into Charlotte's hands, "Use this as a pillow." The girl smiled as she took it, and placed in carefully on the stone before she rested her head on it and closed her eyes.

Rachel watched her for a while, hoping that the excitement of the day would tire the girl out enough to give her at least a little peaceful sleep before nightmares plagued her again. She didn't jump this time when Bellamy placed a hand gently on her shoulder, she just turned to him. He tipped his head towards where he had found the other entrance to the cave, and walked away, clearly expecting her to follow.

She did, without hesitation.

* * *

Bellamy watched Rachel keep away from the vines that hung from the hole in the cave ceiling, she was too wary of the few tendrils of the acid fog floated down and curled around them before disappearing. He wasn't as cautious; he walked right up to them and peered upwards for a moment, then walked around them to the other cave mouth, also covered in draping vines, keeping most of the yellow fog out.

"It looks like that entrance lets out close to the riverbed." he mused, unsure if he was speaking to himself or to Rachel. He reached out to sweep the vines away, and thought he heard her draw in a sharp breath. The thought that she would be worried about him made him think better about what he nearly did, and he pulled his hand back and turned to her.

She moved to sit on a large stone on the cave floor, comfortably far away from the vines. "How long do you think this'll last?"

Bellamy didn't comment on the pointlessness of the question— how could either of them know anything about the fog— he just sat himself on a boulder opposite her and shrugged. "Hopefully not too long. Drew and Jack were carrying the meat, and I'm not too eager to eat whatever we find in here." He chuckled a little, and Rachel halfheartedly returned it before falling silent again.

Bellamy's heart raced as he prepared to finally said what he had been trying to all day. They were here, alone, and Rachel's mood had steadily improved since that morning. It was finally the perfect time.

"I'm sorry about what I said about Jasper." When he saw the shocked, somewhat outraged look on her face, he tried to not feel bad that he was thankful she couldn't walk away from him. Her only options were waking Charlotte, or the acid fog.

"What I mean is," he continued, "I hope you don't think I said that because I want him dead. I don't." His racing heart skipped a beat when she relaxed, and looked at him without anger, just cautious curiosity. "I just…we don't know if Clarke can save him. I want her to, but I know that it's a slim chance."

Rachel hung her head, and pulled back her curls as if to tie them back. Bellamy didn't want her to, they were lovely just the way they were. She grimaced, and spoke without looking at him, "You don't have to remind me."

His heart clenched. "I'm sorry. But I have to be realistic. And if whatever they come back with doesn't help, I can't let Jasper suffer. I can't let him die slowly, and in that much pain. If it comes to it, I will kill him, but only to save him from that."

Silence hung over them for a long moment. The sun began to set, and the light started to fade inside the cave. By the time Rachel finally looked back up at him, he could barely see her well enough to make out the tears in her eyes. "I know. I understand." He heard her swallow, and take a shaky breath, "Thank you."

Relief flooded through Bellamy, and for the first time since he landed on the ground, he felt as if he could breathe easily. By confessing to himself what he felt for this girl, by making her understand him, some great weight had been taken off his shoulders, and although it made him happy, it scared the crap out of him too.

Rachel stood, shaking off the unknown emotions that had begun to cling to her as Bellamy had spoken. Whatever they were, this wasn't the time or place to try and explore them. She looked around the cave, at the base of the hanging vines, where she found what she was searching for. "We should build a fire. It's getting dark, and it's going to get cold in here."

Bellamy didn't say anything, but nodded, and stood. In silence, the began gathering the sticks and twigs that had fallen through the ceiling, careful to avoid the tendril of acid fog that had somehow reached the ground. Once they had both filled their arms, they made their way back towards Charlotte. They quietly set them down in the middle of the cave, and swept away the debris covering the floor.

Without a word, almost as if they had silently spoken, they both set out to a task. Bellamy started arranging the fire, and Rachel walked back into the cave to gather more materials. It was when she reached the vines that she heard Charlotte scream.

She dropped everything immediately and ran towards the sound, then stopped in wonder at what she was seeing.

Bellamy had abandoned his small fire— it barely burnt, and would die soon —and was leaning over Charlotte. One of his large hands was gently placed on her shoulder, the other was wrapped around he much smaller hand. Rachel watched, mesmerized, and he softly shushed her, and squeezed her hand to remind her that she was awake, and in the real world. The young girl apologized over and over for screaming, but Bellamy just shook his head.

Neither of them noticed Rachel. She would have stepped forward to help, but something told her that this moment wasn't for her, and kept her from taking a step forward, or making a sound. This was not to be disturbed.

So she looked on as Bellamy's face softened with kindness and concern, listened as his voice became gentler than she had ever heard it. "Does this happen often?" Charlotte blushed, and nodded. Rachel thought back to all that Miller had told her about Charlotte's nightmares. Her heart ached as she thought of the pain the poor girl had gone through.

She saw the same heartache begin to take shape in Bellamy's eyes. "What are you scared of?" he asked, drawing his hands away from Charlotte, resting them on the ledge she slept on. When he got no response, he shook his head. "You know what? It doesn't matter." Then something strange happened; his expression hardened, and he got a strange look in his eyes, one that Rachel could only try to put a name on.

As he continued to speak, she felt her heart start to thump harder and harder, though she did not know why.

"The only thing that matters is what you do about it."

Charlotte shook her head, she, like Rachel, was unsure of what he meant. "But…I'm asleep."

"Fears are fears," Bellamy's word flowed so smoothly, and he said them with such determination, that Rachel knew that this was something he was intimately familiar with. "Slay your demons when your awake, and they won't be there to get you when you sleep."

"Yeah…but how?"

"You can't afford to be weak," his voice took on a vaguely apologetic tone. "Down here, weakness is death. Fear is death." His gaze wavered for a minute, as if he too, was plagued by some fears. He blinked, and refocused. "Let me see that knife I gave you." She handed it to him. "Now, when you feel afraid, you hold this tight and say, 'Screw you, I'm not afraid."

Rachel smiled. She still didn't move, or make a noise, but something about that mantra struck something in her. It was so…so Bellamy. She'd known him for all of a week but, that one phrase told her everything she needed to know. Then she realized that she wasn't smiling at his words, she was smiling at him. At the thought of him. He made her smile.

The feelings she had brushed off earlier floated back down, settling gently in her heart and stomach like the glowing butterflies Octavia had showed her.

She could name those feelings now.

Trust was one. Total, unwavering trust. It didn't matter what he had said about Jasper. She trusted his explanation wholly, she trusted that he meant the best, and that she would trust whatever decisions he made.

Admiration was another. She had seen him put on several masks since they landed. A mask of confidence, a mask of fierceness, and the mask of a leader. But all those masks faded as she watched him now, as she listened to his words. This was him, this was the true Bellamy. The one without the mask. And she admired him.

She knew the name of the last one, but she couldn't bring herself to think it. It was too scary. It was the beginning of something too big. Something that she didn't think had a place here, not on the ground. So she took that feeling and she locked it up tight. She sealed it away where it wouldn't bother her, wouldn't cause any problems.

But when Bellamy had lured Charlotte back to sleep, he stood up to face her. In the low light, his dark eyes reflected the gold of the fire. Rachel's breath caught, and she couldn't help it as that feeling broke out and flew free.

She was in trouble.


End file.
